Wishful Thinking
by prettygirl17
Summary: It's Christmas Eve. May sees Drew struggling and, desperate to help him, makes a wish on a falling star. Now Drew has been cursed. He has 12 days to see the magic in Christmas and come to terms with his past, or . . . what?  contestshipping daml DrewXMay
1. The Wish

**A/N PLEASE READ!**

**This story is not completely thought out yet, but I want to make a "12-days-of-Christmas" story. I do know what it is that I want this story to relay, so I hope that it still makes an impression.** **I would have added more to this chapter but I needed to do it now to do the twelve days of Christmas. I'll make up for it in coming chapters. The goal of this story is to start now, and end on Christmas day. 12 days. 12 chapters. The focus being the magic of Christmas love. . . though possibly in a different view from the classic. I intend to take a less hateful scrooge-like character and make him love Christmas. Except this time, our Scrooge character isn't cruel or hateful. A take on more common reasoning to hate Christmas. A sad character, that has taken a terrible blow.**

**I hope you enjoy.**

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><p>An irritated grunt.<p>

"May, if you don't give me the map -"

"You'll what?" came the innocent reply.

". . . You know we're going to freeze to death, don't you?"

"I know where I'm going." A feminine voice tensely stated.

"Really?"

"Yes, really!"

"Great."

"Good."

". . . So, where are we then?"

May's feet came to a stop as the snow gathered around her ankles. "Crap." A scoff came somewhere off to her right.

May sighed and looked around. It was white. As far as the eye could see. They were in the street now she knew, but it was almost hard to tell. The only indication they were still on the road were the phone lines to their side. She heard a cough and winced in guilt.

Drew acted tough. That was just the way he was. But he hated the cold. Hated it with a passion. May assumed that part of it was due to the fact that he had grown up in a warmer area. He wasn't used to it and as such he found himself feeling colder than most, sneezing when the snow came and irrationally upset that he had to be there. The snow was clinging to his pants and filling his shoes, making him wet and giving his feet a squishy feel. He winced in disgust.

"May-"

"I know! One second."

"Give me the map!"

May crossed her arms in annoyance when Drew took the map from her hands. He held it up in front of his face, brows furrowed in annoyance as the corner of the map he couldn't hold flew back and hit him in the face. May's posture relaxed as she watched him struggle with the map, flipping it upside down as he tried to get the corners out so he could see it against the wind. May's expression softened. "Maybe . . . Maybe we should go back to town."

Drew's mouth twisted a bit. There was nothing that he would like more than to go back to town, which is exactly _why_ May had suggested it. But Drew knew that they had made plenty of turns since they had left town, and he didn't see them finding there way back any easier than finding there way forward.

"No. Getting there's going to be just as hard as getting back. We may as well keep going and get there on time."

And there it was. The contest. One of the only things that Drew would struggle through the snow for. She sighed. "You're hopeless."

"Hmm?" He stopped, holding the map at arms length and gave her a sideways glance. "What now?"

May sighed and turned away, looking through the falling snow to see if she could spot a landmark of some kind. "You're right. It's packed."

Drew paused, seemingly surprised by something she had said, then shook himself off and looked lowered the map, staring through the snow intensely. "Great."

May was the one to move first, Drew trudging behind her in annoyance.

It was always like this. ALWAYS. There was this little thing called disappointment. A familiar enough emotion when he was young. But now, like the snow, the feeling had faded slowly, giving way to the almost-numb pins-and-needles sensation. Not quite unfeeling, not quite without hope, but lost enough not to care.

May brought out the best in him. He was sure it had something to do with the way she smiled as she surveyed the shopping areas, the way her eyes lit up when they passed yet another tree or house done up in Christmas lights. May still had that feeling. That childish go-lucky feel that had her convinced that no matter what happened-it was still going to be a great Christmas. She smiled the way no one without a hint of childishness could, fully secure in the idea that Christmas brought out the best of every situation.

And with that same attitude, she also inadvertently brought out the worst in him.

It wasn't that he disliked her attitude, or her, or the light in her eyes particularly. In fact, he very much liked that part . . . . It was more the underlying idea she had. The idea that Christmas was perfect. The best time of year for everyone. The insufferable idea that everyone was affected positively by Christmas. And that, outside of this idea, it was simply a matter of attitude.

He reflected on the story of Scrooge. It had become the most well-known Christmas story over the simple idea of a man's attitude towards life and the effect that Christmas could have on him, if he would let it. It never ceased to make Drew furious. Carefully so, so that nobody would notice, but angry none the less. It was such an unfair principle, that all you had to do was have a good attitude and allow Christmas to magically change your life.

Charles Dickens seemed to have forgotten those few souls, who _wanted_ Christmas, who _were_ open to it entering their lives. Who _yearned_ for such a change. . . but who never got it. Being positive and open to an idea didn't change anything. You could still yearn for a thing, look forward to it positively with the bright optimism of a child, and have it ripped out under your feet.

Maybe that was part of what bothered him about May's optimism. She didn't know. She couldn't know. Just like a child. Knowing, understanding disappointment, meant growing up. How young had he been? When did that feeling become normal?

How do you tell a child that their happiness is completely pointless?

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><p>Aleksi Samson wasn't mean. Not really. She just hated putting up with mindless crap. Thirteen days from Christmas, working full time for school, living at work in the hotel rooms, and just getting over a break up with her boyfriend (more like she had broke up with him, calling him a word she would rather not have said and throwing his bag out onto the cold snow outside).<p>

Now here she was, serving yet another raging customer who was upset about the amount of sugar in her pasta and the slight burning of his hash browns. When, really, weren't there more important things to be worried about? Who cares if your hash browns are cooked to perfection? Who cares how sweet your pasta sauce is? Who cares if you took longer than three minutes to get it to the table?

Really, was it any wonder she was upset?

It was starting to get dark and still the customers just kept coming. Orders flying this way and that. It was a rich hotel. You would think that some people who came there would be calm and reserved, like in the movies. But no, that was upstairs. Right now, she was downstairs and no body cared how they acted in the busy bustle of a room that was more a bar than a restaurant section. Ugh, she should have stayed in the upstairs lunch room. No alcohol allowed and no guys to eyeing you with sleepy stares….

As the end of the day came to a close, Aleksi finally paused and hung her apron in the kitchen. Why would anybody in their right mind want to be a waitress? Her feet ached and her bones themselves were tired. The tips were the only things that kept her coming.

She pulled her jacket on then. Not planning on going outside but feeling like she needed it none the less. Now that she essentially lived at work, she still felt the need to put on her jacket when she was done. Somehow it seemed final, gave her the feel of going home instead of what she really was doing . . . walking upstairs to her hotel room.

The hotel was finally asleep. Some late nighters were up in the common area, drinking cocoa and reading next to an hearth. Otherwise it was completely quiet. And the solitude was comforting on late nights like these.

Aleksi put her key in her pocket just passing the window that stretched around the long walls of the main lobby, and stopped. Curiosity had always been a strong point of hers (she reminded herself, strong, not weak), and she walked cautiously to the window. Squinting into the windy, frosty air. It was hard to see. But she was sure now that she saw the outline of a person making there way through the snow. Eyes widening, Aleksi placed the key back in her pocket and pulled out a new one. Opening the locked front door enough to lean out front.

At a loss for words she yelled, "Hey!"

The person seemed to speed up and after a moment it became apparent that one person was really two. Slowly they made their way out of the snow that blocked them from view. Finally coming to stop in front of Aleksi, leaning over and placing hands on knees to catch their breaths.

They were both covered in snow, pants and hair soaked to the bone, lips purple and cold.

Aleksi paused and looked at the two for a moment. Finally asking, "Rough night?"

The girl, brown hair pulled back under a bandana, laughed through her breathing. "You have no idea."

"You're lucky I caught you. We're closed for the night. I doubt anyone was coming down the stairs anytime soon."

May chuckled. "A Christmas miracle then?"

Drew rolled his eyes.

Aleksi paused and frowned slightly. "Maybe." She stepped back then and held the door open for them. "Well, come in then. Let's not wait for the grass to grow. . . . You'll be stuck out here for a while."

Drew scowled and finally caught his breath glancing at May and waiting a moment as she finally walked inside.

While Drew and May warmed themselves up, Aleksi headed over to the desk and pulled a card out from beneath it.

"How much." Drew asked without preamble.

"Well, the hotel's closed for tonight." Aleksi repeated her earlier statement. "But we can't exactly leave you freezing out in the cold for tonight either. We're the only hotel you'll find in the area. I'd like you still to sign some papers for me so at least they have something to go off of tomorrow morning. After that it's up to you. I'll leave them a memo, so just come down tomorrow morning and pay. It's 65 per room, that's for one person. Are you together or separate?"

Drew blinked. "Oh. Uh . . . " He glanced at May.

"We-We're separate." May was still a little out of breath, at least that's why Drew assumed she was stuttering. "But we'll share the room."

Aleksi gave her a strange look and grabbed the single card. "Okay then. You're room 12. Remember to pay. Please. I really can't deal with unpaying customers right now."

"Thank you." May muttered. "Sorry for the trouble."

"Oh no, I didn't mean it like that. I just, sorry. Forget it. Here's your card." She handed it to May, then looked back and forth between the two of them. "They said we'd be snowed in, in the morning. The phone lines have been acting up too, so make any calls you need to make now before they go down completely." She paused and forced a smile. "Have a good night. Merry Christmas."

May nodded and smiled back, while Drew's mouth twitched as he looked to the side.

'So I'm not alone.' Aleksi thought. Then she waved and left to her room.

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><p>"She was nice." May said finally.<p>

"Whatever. She just didn't want to be fired for leaving us out in the cold like she said."

May narrowed her eyes at him. "What makes you say something like that? Don't you think she would have ignored us if that were the case?" Drew shrugged, then looked away as May sighed. "Let's go. I'm falling asleep standing up."

"I don't doubt it. I've seen you do it."

May punched him in the shoulder.

* * *

><p>When they finally made it to their room. They both stripped instantly. Their coats were keeping them colder than warm thanks to all the snow and their pants were soaked.<p>

May placed both of their coats near the door while Drew looked towards the bath. "Are you showering?"

May shook her head. "I really think I'm going to fall asleep soaking in the tub if I do."

"Yeah. . ." Drew quietly agreed. "We're wet enough." He glanced at May warily. "You can change first. I'll wait."

"Thanks. I'll be right out."

May took her bag in with her quickly and Drew finally was able to assess the room they were in. Everything was beautiful. Rich reds and calming creams. It was putting him even more to sleep than he already was.

The room was separated into large sections: the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room, and the sleep room. An average fireplace sat in the living room, a couch and two large stairs before it. Behind them on the far wall was a large window with a ledge, flowers and pictures on either side of it to accent. The kitchen area was small, but had a small stove and chesnut wood cabinets. The bathroom was off to the side of the front door. The sleep room was behind the kitchen and living room both, they had yet to see it.

He passed the couches, TV, table and headed towards where he knew the beds had to be. But darn, the room was big. He groaned internally as he reached his destination.

"I'm do-"

May was quicker than he was at assessing the situation. "There's only one bed." She stated bluntly.

"Yep." Drew agreed.

"What do we do?"

"It's too late to get a new one."

May sighed.

"You take the bed." Drew stated after a moment, mentally wincing. Shouldn't that have been obvious?

"Kay." May answered quietly. "You-"

"I'll take the couch." He picked his bag off the floor and went to change, leaving May to evaluate the room in his place. She was amazed. They hadn't stayed in a hotel like this one before. It was huge. They often stayed in nicer hotels simply because of Drew. He didn't see the point in settling for less when they could afford it. But this was beautiful. Especially for the price. It was almost romantic. It was no wonder why it was doing so well as the only major hotel.

"Done." Drew stated glumly. "I'm going to bed. See you in the morning."

"Drew?"

"Yeah?

"Thanks."

"Whatever."

May almost laughed. Almost. He was still so much like when they had first met. It was wonderful. Wonderful because he was still him, and she didn't want him to change. But maybe a little bit of change . . . towards her . . .

May sighed and climbed into bed, already changed into her pajamas. Red long-sleeved shirt and pants with green ribbon up the front to hold it closed. She glanced at Drew. Same old. Black shorts and tee. She had an inkling that he had changed his sleeping attire when they started rooming together. The outfit didn't seem to completely fit his attitude. He was looking a little restless, though all the way across the room. Sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace and setting his bag down beside him. The lights were dimmed, setting a night time glow over the room, snow fell outside of the window to her side. It felt so quiet. A perfect Christmas Eve, Eve. She frowned. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. Looking towards the bronze clock over the fireplace she corrected herself silently. Midnight. It WAS Christmas Eve. And same as the last three years, Drew had yet to take note of it. Yet to acknowledge Christmas at all. It wouldn't be so terrible if he would open up to her and tell her why. But there wasn't much he had opened up to her about, despite her assumption that she was probably the closest person to him in means of friends.

Still, every year it was like this. May getting excited about Christmas, and Drew pretending he didn't remember or care.

Pulling herself out of bed, tired body protesting, May quietly made her way across the room, and to the chair beside the couch. She sat down then looked at Drew. His eyes were closed under the blankets, so May was startled when he sighed and muttered, "What is it, May?"

She jumped then settled down. "It's Christmas Eve." She whispered. Her voice seemed to echo in the silent room, only the crackle of the fire accenting her words.

Drew stiffened beneath his blankets. May pretended not to notice. "Yeah."

"Do you have anything you want for Christmas?"

Drew hesitated. "I'm fine." He said finally. "Why?"

"It's just . . . It's Christmas you know? I would think that everyone would wish for at least something small. It's hard not too when everyone around you is."

"What's the point?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, carefully watching for a reaction.

"Isn't it obvious? I mean, why wish for something you're never getting?"

"Why would you never get it?"

"It's just depends I guess. But most the time you know you won't get what you really want. I just don't see the point in wishing for something."

May paused. "Not anything?"

Drew sighed. "What are you getting at?"

She shrugged, pulling her knees to her chest and staring at the fire. "I just . . . I guess I thought that everyone would want something."

"It's not about wanting something." May looked up. "It's about the chance you have of getting something just by wishing for it. Real rewards take effort. You can't just wish for something."

He pushed himself onto one arm and looked at her finally, surprised to see the sadness in her eyes, even more surprised by the childish question. "Not even on Christmas?"

He hesitated again. He knew what he wanted to say. 'No.' Isn't it obvious? How does the day change anything? Instead he turned and looked at the fire. "I'm tired. Aren't you? We should get to sleep."

May recognized this as the end of their conversation. Nodding, she rose and walked back to the bed, missing Drew's gaze on her as she left.

She wanted to go to bed, but she couldn't. Not now. Drew . . . was missing out on Christmas. And their conversations on the subject were shorter than their talks on anything else. She knew it was sensitive to him, she just didn't know why. And she wanted to. She cared about how he felt. About him. Why couldn't he open up with her just a little bit and tell her why?

Going to the window, May pulled herself onto the thick ledge, bringing her knees to her chest and staring out at the night sky. She wondered for a moment how it was lightly snowing when she could still see the stars, but that thought was wiped from her mind the same moment that a shooting star crossed through the sky. May pursed her lips.

"_You can't just wish for something"_

Inhaling sharply, May brought her hands to her chest and closed her eyes. 'I wish for Drew . . . to find a reason to love Christmas.'

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><p><strong>AN Just a note:**

**I know it's off to a rough start. I'm honestly not completely sure what I'm going to do with this. I just knew that I wanted to get the first chapter up today. I'm sure I've messed up on something, but I really don't have time to go over it right now so please deal for now. And just a request, since I'm not quite sure about this one, if you, as a reader, want me to continue it, will you please leave me a review? I'm going to need motivation to continue this story. I'm not holding it over anyone's head, I just know I'm going to need it. Thanks!  
><strong>

**For those of you reading my other two stories in process (The Instinct/Ethrill: Love Overcomes), in order to write this story within the Christmas season, I have placed them both on hiatus. You will see such in the title if you find them on my profile. I will continue to update once the Christmas Season is over. I hope this story is worth the wait.**

**Thank you amazing readers! You guys are the best!**

**P.S. Aleksi is based off of me . . . sort of. I took my own spin on the character this time just to make her match the story. I may ask for other people to throw their OC's in this story as well. If you want to, give me a description of an OC of yours you would like me to use. It will be a very small minor character, like mine is. I'm looking for Characters with something small that's taking away from the holiday season for them. (i.e. Aleksi just broke up with her boyfriend and has to work for school. It's detracting her from the season.)  
><strong>


	2. Day 1

_**A/N: Thanks so much to the readers who reviewed the last chapter. You inspired me to continue with this chapter. **__**I will reply to each of your review individually as soon as I can, I really appreciate it!  
><strong>_

**_Thanks to:_**

**_EVAN AAML  
>Fprmr1<br>xxTheBloodyRosexx  
>EternityRoze262<em>**

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><p><em>"Twelve days. . . ."<em>

Drew woke, still in that place between awake and not, with those words ringing in his thoughts. It seemed to mean something, something important. But somehow, he just couldn't think of what. Opening his eyes he was met with the soft glow of the fireplace and the darkness of the room around him. He closed his eyes again, not wanting to get out of bed just yet. Despite the fireplace it was still a little cold. And nothing kept him more confined and unwilling to wake as the cold. He pulled the blankets under his head and started to dig under the covers, groaning in annoyance. Why was it so blasted cold?

Finally sighing in defeat, Drew pulled the covers off and stepped off of the couch, crouching next to the fireplace to absorb its warmth for a moment. He looked up at the clock and found it's time broadcasting throughout the room.

'12:00'

He blinked. Was it really that late? How had he slept in? He stood and picked the small clock off of the mantel staring at it. The minute hand was broken, lying broken at the bottom of the glass. The round ring it had been attached to seemed still, it was hard to know if it was working or not. Sighing, Drew sat the clock back on the mantel and made his way towards the kitchen area. He stopped halfway there, hand raised as he froze mid-yawn. May was sitting on the window ledge, asleep, hands curled under her head as she leaned against the window.

Drew stared; eyebrow raised, and made his way silently to stand beside her. Folding his arms across his chest he stared at her, wincing slightly when he took note of the slight drop beneath the window. He had always had a sort of secret aversion to heights. How could May lean against the glass like that, with that drop beside her and the glass the only thing keeping her from it?

He shook his head and sighed, hands dropping to his sides. He considered leaving. May wasn't, and never had been, a morning person. Still, he glanced at the clock; it wasn't exactly morning anymore, was it? May let out a small moan and clenched her hands beneath her chin. Drew's expression changed, staring almost blankly, he bit down on his lower lip for a moment, mouth still closed, and internally cringed at himself. It was a childish habit, and one he had only been able to ignore when he wasn't dropping his guard or feeling nervous.

She really did look . . . cute, if a little uncomfortable, laying against the window with her knees drawn up to her chest and her chin resting on almost closed fingers, head against the window pane. Had she been there all night? Had she actually been sleepy enough to fall asleep there for hours? Of course, he had seen her falling asleep in more uncomfortable positions. The corner of his mouth twitched. 'Alright,' he finally thought to himself. 'Enough pointless staring.'

Hesitating, Drew placed his arms under her knees and across her back, carefully shifting her so her head wouldn't simply fall from under her hands. He ended up not having to worry quite as much as he thought he would as May sensed the change in her sleep and leaned her head against his chest instead, nuzzling just slightly and bringing her hands up. Drew jumped lightly, flushing in embarrassment, not sure whether he should be thankful she was a heavy sleeper or not. He scowled lightly. Why the blushing? Of all the . . . May moved again, mumbling his name in her sleep. The thought was gone in the presence of a deeper blush. Finally he sighed and gave up, carrying her to the bed. The covers were still thrown back much to his relief, and he simply had to lay her on the sheets and bring the covers up over her.

May woke a few minutes later, hearing footsteps and the rustle of fabric. Rubbing lightly at her eyes, she pushed herself up in bed.

"Morning. Or afternoon, more like."

May looked at Drew, already dressed in his usual attire and tying off his shoes. He placed his foot back on the floor from the cushion he had been resting it on and looked at her.

"You getting up?"

May blinked, apparently still a bit asleep, missing the corners of Drew's mouth twitch. Finally he smiled, chuckling slightly.

"You slept all night at the window then?"

May looked at the window, and stared, looking back at Drew with confused and tired eyes. He had to try hard not to change his expression, or worse . . . blush.

"What do you mean?"

"You were sitting there when I woke up."

"I was?" she asked sleepily. Then waking a little more, her mouth formed an "o" of understanding. "Oh! I forgot! I-I fell asleep."

Drew laughed. Her hair was messed, eyes sleepy and still a little confused. "But then . . ." she started, and Drew fell silent. She looked at the sheets around her and then at him. "When . . . How did I . . ."

Drew's eyes widened, realizing where the conversation was going and quickly spinning on his heel to hide his blush and finish the conversation. He started talking in what he hoped was a normal tone. "I'm going down stairs for lunch. Do you want me to bring you anything?"

May smiled. "That's okay. I'll follow you down."

"I'll be there." Drew pulled his money from the counter where he had set it when tying his shoes and started down the stairs.

When he reached the lobby he first headed to the front desk and paid for his and May's room. The woman stared at him in confusion until he explained their situation.

"Oh," she had stated tersely. "Aleksi."

Drew's brows furrowed him, curiosity getting the best of him. "Yeah. Why?"

She shrugged, turning to her computer. "Nothing, it's just, she's not herself. Only Aleksi wouldn't think and just grab the first card her fingers gripped."

Drew was still decidedly confused. Why would that matter? "Is there something wrong with our room?" he asked finally.

She glanced at him from the screen and stopped her typing. Her fingers came together beneath her chin in a feminine fashion as she regarded him in way that some of his fan girls might have, had they been a bit older. "That room costs more than others." When he opened his mouth to ask more she cut him off. "It's a bit of a Christmas tradition. Usually somebody comes with the request for that specific room. It's been known to grant wishes."

Drew blinked, and stared. Had he heard right?

She sighed. "Except the people that come usually end up leaving in a huff the next day. Disappointment or something at an unanswered wish I imagine. People were getting so upset, and so often, that we finally stopped offering that room altogether."

Drew just stared at her, finally muttering, "Seriously?"

She nodded. "Absolutely." Then she sighed again. "But Aleksi, clueless as she is, doesn't seem to really believe in it, or care. Especially not now. That's probably why she gave it to you without worry."

Drew found himself pulled into the conversation despite himself. Usually he wouldn't really care. But for some reason he couldn't place, this story intrigued him. It was more like a Christmas curse . . . people coming for wishes and leaving angry. So upset it seemed, that the hotel had finally banned that room altogether. Of course, it was probably as the receptionist had told him: people simply upset that their wishes had gone unanswered. Finally he pulled himself from the idea. He had been leaning forward without realizing it. To distract himself, so he wouldn't seem to be ignoring her, he asked. "Especially now?"

"She broke up with her boyfriend." She stated casually, turning back to the computer.

"Hmm. Everybody has break ups. Shouldn't be that terrible, despite the . . . season."

She rose an eyebrow, looking at him with a twinge of what might be considered 'the look.' "They were engaged." She turned back to her computer and leaned to pull papers out of the printer.

Drew winced, simply waiting while she grabbed some papers from beside her and held them out to him. She gave him a long look that Drew endured before finally setting them on the counter in front of him. "Sign. Once. The bottom."

Drew resisted sighing or rolling his eyes. Apparently, despite the fact that she seemed to not really care for Aleksi, she was still sticking with her on the side that she was a woman as well.

No sooner had he signed, then the papers were pulled out from under his hands. He placed the pen down awkwardly and stood there while she returned to her work.

"Is that it?"

"That's it. Merry Christmas." Her "merry Christmas," had a tone that said, "bye." Drew sighed and left to the lunch area.

It was busy, people bustling back and forth across the room. Drew headed for an empty table against the far wall that May was sure to see when she walked in. He sighed when he looked at the decor. White Christmas lights were strung around the ceiling, red and green candles sat in the middle of each small table. He remembered that it was Christmas Eve. He didn't want to think about it.

"What are you having?"

Drew looked up to see a guy. Black hair pulled back to look somewhat refined for the hotel. He was wearing waiter attire, all black and white.

"I'm not ready," he answered. "I'm still waiting on someone."

"Christmas date?"

Drew's eyes narrowed.

"Fine, fine. I'll send a someone out in a couple minutes. Good with you?"

Drew nodded. The man clicked his pen and placed it in his pocket as he walked away.

Drew turned back to the entry way, waiting for May. He sighed when she still didn't come in and glanced around the room quickly in case they had simply missed each other. Maybe she had gone back upstairs when she didn't see him there?

"Hey."

Drew's view was obscured by a slightly poufy red skirt. He looked up to see that the skirt was actually a dress, covered by a green apron trimmed in white lace. He rose an eyebrow, recognizing her from the night before.

Aleksi laughed awkwardly. "It's ridiculous right?" She asked, referring to the dress and apron. "Their attempt at adding Christmas spirit."

His eyebrow only rose. "Is it only you? I didn't see the last waiter with anything?"

She scowled. "He's a guy. He's not required to wear anything besides a suit to cover his body. Beyond that they don't care." She stopped and mumbled so he had to strain to hear. "It's the girls people are staring at when they order, so they deck us out. Freakin money molesters."

Drew chocked to stifle his laughter. He could almost enjoy this conversation. She didn't seem too thrilled at the prospect of their pushy "Christmas spirit." Then again . . . He thought of May. That was . . . kind of nice, all things considered.

The thought brought his mind back to May and he strained a bit around Aleksi's apron. She spun lightly to look where he was and saw the door, then turned back. Drew was still staring at the opening, almost longingly with a twinge of annoyance. "Waiting for your friend?"

He nodded.

"I can take your order while you're waiting."

He frowned a bit, then shrugged. "Yeah sure."

"What do you want?"

"Whatever."

Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Just make sure it doesn't taste like a child made it."

"Price range?"

"None."

She shrugged. "Alright then, same for her?"

"She can order herself. Just bring something she can mess with while she waits."

"Alright then. What does she like for breakfast?"

Drew blinked. "Breakfast?"

". . . yeah."

"You guys still serve that?"

The look she gave him made him wonder what he had said wrong. "Always have."

"This time of day?"

She blinked at him several times, then cracked an awkward smile. "This is the usual time, right? You an early riser or something?"

Drew found himself straining around her again to look at a clock and jolted.

'9:14'

"What . . . "

"You do want a breakfast meal don't you?" Aleksi asked, so she would know if she should change his order.

"Is that clock right?"

"Uh . . . yeah?"

"I think the clock in my room is wrong."

"Oh!" Her eyes widened in recognition. "I can send someone up to fix it for you. Sorry about that. Usually they have those things all checked before someone gets in though . . . weird."

"Hey Drew . . . "

Drew and Aleksi were both startled when May joined their table and sat beside him. "What's going on?"

Drew shook his head. "Nothing. Just ordering. What do you want?"

Aleksi still looked contemplative but turned to look at May as well. May's eyes widened in recognition. "You're from last night! Thanks so much for the help."

Aleksi smiled lightly. "No problem. Do you know what you want?"

"Oh yeah, um. . . "She picked up her menu. "How about chicken noodle soup and hot cocoa?" She looked almost shy about her decision. Aleksi nodded and seemed not to notice as she took note.

"Anything else?"

Getting two declinations, Aleksi turned and started into the kitchen.

"She looks really cute." May stated brightly after she had left. "I guess they changed their outfits for the Christmas season."

"Only the girls apparently." Drew smirked slightly, realizing the truth of Aleksi's words.

"Well, how'd you sleep."

"Really well, all things considering. I mean, apparently I slept on a window ledge all night." She looked at him suspiciously. He pushed the blush down and pretended not to notice. After a moment she shrugged it off. That was one of the things he actually liked about May. She wasn't completely clueless, at least not to him. But she knew when to drop it when it got too awkward for him.

"It's Christmas Eve." she said quietly after a moment.

Drew simply stared at the red and green napkins sitting innocently enough on the edge of the table.

"I. . . " she let out a breath she had been holding and continued nervously. "I was wondering if you'd like to do something with me tonight?" she asked carefully. "Go look at the lights or . . . something?"

Drew was suspiciously unresponsive, and she thought she knew why. "Well, we are staying together." He said after a moment. "Of course we'll be together."

May huffed. "I know that. I just . . . I thought it would be nice to formally set something up. You know like a-a . . . date?"

Drew blinked and looked up at her. "A date?" he repeated. He had trouble seeing the point in setting something up 'formally.' They were already going to be together anyway. But . . . maybe. . . He opened his mouth to answer and then remembered what had led to the question. _". . . Christmas Eve . . . Looking at lights. . . "_He hesitated. "I'm not really into the whole Christmas thing. Maybe we could do something else?"

It was impossible to miss the way her eyes dimmed with the suggestion, the slight disappointment on her face. He couldn't take it back, and he tried to ignore the feelings that were telling him that he was doing something very wrong by making such a suggestion.

"Yeah . . ." she whispered. "Kay."

He frowned and sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just not-"

May looked at him with a strained smile. "I'm okay. Really. Let's do something anyway though, right? What do you want to do?"

He blinked. He couldn't ignore the question, despite the fact that she was obviously trying to distract him. "We could go out to eat."

"That's what we're doing."

"No really. It's a hotel. People are running around and we're still wearing the clothes we soaked yesterday. I meant somewhere different."

May smiled then, and nodded slowly. "Yeah. That sounds nice. When?"

Again, Drew didn't see the point. They would probably be together all day wouldn't they? "Um . . .ten?"

Her smile grew. And not the painful smile from before either, a real beautiful smile. He wondered what exactly he had done to merit it. "It's a date."

Drew felt a smile of his own coming, an unconscious copy of hers. He was distracted when a plate of waffles covered in butter and strawberries with whipped cream heaped off to the side landed on the table in front of him, quickly followed by a bowl of noodles and a few biscuits placed in front of May.

Drew looked up to see Aleksi standing in front of them. "You don't strike me as a sugar tooth, so I left the syrup off. Whipped topping to the side. I can get syrup if you want it."

"No, this is good thanks."

She nodded and turned to May. "Anything else that I can get for you?"

"No, I'm good."

"Alright. see ya."

* * *

><p>The day passed almost uneventfully considering it was Christmas Eve. Before May knew it, it was time for her to go with Drew. And then it hit her.<p>

...she didn't have a dress did she?

She groaned internally, and looked outside. Aleksi had been right, they were basically snowed in. The restaurant was luckily nearby; at least, Drew had said they would be able to get to it. But she didn't know her way around quite yet and traveling to find a mall was definitely out of the question.

She sighed; maybe the mall would have a shopping area? She brightened internally. It was a great idea.

She found herself in a hall full of small shops in a few minutes. The hotel really was huge. Everything was expensive which was to be expected really. She found a clothing section and walked in, smiling at the decorations all around the hotel. It was a wonderful place to be snowed in.

The woman at the counter jumped when May walked in, and quickly walked around the counter. "What can I help you with?" she asked politely. May quickly took in how formally the woman was dressed, a few years older than her, and beautiful. She swallowed her discomfort and pressed on. "I-I need a dress. A red one."

The woman seemed thoughtful at her specification and looked her over a couple of times. "I'm sure we can get something." she said finally. Before May could decide to be excited or insulted, the woman had turned and walked away, May following quickly behind.

It wasn't long before May was out of the shop again. She never wanted to go shopping again, or so she told herself. She generally loved shopping, but the woman had made it quite a hassle, not stopping to censer her words bluntly told May exactly what she needed to compliment her figure and what wouldn't . . . It had been awkward.

May was still in this train of thought when she passed the jewelry counter on her way back. She paused. It couldn't hurt could it? The woman couldn't possibly be as uptight as the last one had been. She entered the store with a hopeful smile.

Time passed quickly. In a rare moment of astuteness, Drew had taken his leave early, telling May how to get to the restaurant. She seemed to want to make it different.

Now here he was, waiting close inside the doors. The hotel was right beside the restaurant. Drew thought that one of the two must have set that up. It worked out nicely for them to be so convenient. His thoughts flew out the window when May walked in, blowing warm air into her hands.

A man walked up to her, the same one that had approached Drew, and offered to take May's coat. She looked a little uncomfortable but ultimately nodded and handed it to him.

Drew found himself at a loss for words. She was beautiful. Even more so that usual. And that was a hard feat. She was wearing a knee length red dress that gathered loosely around her hips. Wide strap sleeves kept the dress from falling. The neckline made a "v" only slightly in the middle, otherwise strait. And a black belt accented beneath her chest. She wore red small heels that sparkled slightly in the strange lighting of the room and had pulled her hair back into one curled pony tail, bangs still in front of her face. The fabric of the dress was interesting too.

_"Soft,"_ he found himself thinking. Then he jolted and turned away, struggling with his blush. The dress was red, but still seemed like it had been chosen with Christmas in mind. He couldn't look at her without the thought, couldn't look away either. _"Darn it, May!"_

May noticed him then and walked over to join him. She was definitely nervous. Hands ringing behind her, but still she smiled when she reached him. Beamed more like. "You look great Drew," she stated sweetly.

"Yeah, thanks. . . . You too." He couldn't help but to quickly glance over the dress again, then shook his head and held his arm out to her, thinking she'd appreciate it. She didn't disappoint. Her face lighted even more and she laughed a little, linking her arm with his.

"Thanks."

When they were finally at their table and the food had been served, May began talking again to break the silence. "So, how's your Christmas Eve been going?"

He paused, mentally sighing. "All right, better now." He smiled as he looked at her and took in her slightly shocked expression. But she smiled as well, returning to the food.

"This is really good Drew. Have you been here before?"

"No. Just . . . get a taste for this sort of thing eventually I suppose."

"What sort of thing?" May asked curiously.

Drew gestured lightly around the restaurant. The lights were dimmed, music less, only the tinkle of silverware and the light chatter of couples around them. "This," he stated again. "Finer food. Quiet restaurants. That sort of thing."

May nodded. "I think I know what you mean. It's nice. I mean, a little lonely, but nice."

Drew stopped cutting the meat on his place and looked up at her. "What do you mean lonely?"

She shrugged. "It is, isn't it? If it were only you here, no music, no friends. Just you and fine food? I think I would prefer a little noise and bustle on those nights. Even if it wasn't expected."

Drew blinked and looked down. "I guess. . . I could understand that. I prefer the expected. Knowing what's going to happen next. Being able to prepare and get ready and know how much time you have to do it in and how much is expected of you. Contests were always like that too now that I think about it."

"But you can't always know, can you?" This drew his attention back to her; he silently encouraged her to go on. "What if this was your last Christmas? I mean, it could be. How could we know? I don't think that we can know what to expect, and I don't think that you can be totally prepared for something either. Of course no one wants to be taken out of their comfort zone. No one likes to assume that a days their last either. But sometimes it is . . . isn't it? And there's not much that you can do about it."

Drew just stared. This was May. Happy go lucky May, being a little too . . . emo?

"But what's the point in worrying then?" Drew stated quietly. "If you're going to think that way then you may as well just enjoy the moment, just live and have fun and live each day to its fullest, right?"

May smiled. "Exactly."

Drew stared, understanding suddenly that she had been trying to relay that to him, and that she did that very thing more often than he did. He frowned and looked away. "Great May."

"I'm sorry? Was that wrong of me?"

"No, it's fine." he said, not unkindly. "I just . . . I don't know. Forget it."

May's lips pursed together in frustration. "You can tell me you know." she said suddenly. "I'll listen. Really Drew, I want to talk to you. I'm your friend."

Drew rolled his eyes. "There's nothing to say, May. It's Christmas, I don't like it. There's nothing to say." He knew that she was leading to this. She always did. Especially on Christmas. She didn't like being shut out. But he wasn't shutting her out was he? It wasn't as though he had anything interesting to tell her. Why should she care? Why should it matter? Why would Christmas be so darn important to her? Why _did_ she care?

He glanced back at her to see her frowning sadly. "I do care you know," she said sadly. "I want you to be happy Drew. I want you to enjoy the holiday."

"Why do I have to enjoy the holiday to be happy? I thought we were happy. Isn't that the whole point of this . . . date? Aren't we doing that right now? It doesn't matter." He didn't take note of his new tone and the fact that went against what he was saying.

"But it _does _matter. Christmas isn't just about toys and stuff like that. And I know that you think that I'm going to say that it's about love and family and that it's cheesy but it's true. And if you can't think about that on Christmas and want it then when will you otherwise?"

Drew tried to brush off her words. She was trying to get him to open up. Tell her why things bothered him. Really, did it matter? It would just sound stupid anyway. He sighed. "May, I'm not open to talking about this right now. I'm sorry. Maybe later."

"But that's the problem isn't it?" Her voice was quiet. "How am I supposed to know you at all when you never open up to me about anything? I care about you Drew. I. . . I want to know."

Drew was hanging onto some of the last patience he had left. It was more than that. It was his business. How did his past define him? It didn't. Why did she have to know his past to know him? If anything, he would be telling her about someone else, someone who he used to be but knew that he wasn't now. Things he didn't want to remember and sure didn't want _her_ remembering about him. "Why can't we just start here? Why do you feel the need to know my memories? I am me. I'm still me without them. You don't need to know them to know me."

"It's not just about that." She was quiet still. "It's about you opening up to me. You have to do that, to get close to a person."

Drew ground his teeth without realizing it. "No."

She looked at him in hurt. "No? Just like that?"

"No."

"Drew-"

"I said no! Why can't you just leave it?"

"Because I care! You need to! I can _see_ it. Whatever you won't tell me still bothers you and I-"

Slam.

Several people stopped eating and glanced over at them. May froze, silenced. Drew had slammed his hand hard onto the table, too upset to think of the outcome. He wasn't looking at her, but his eyes were hard. She somehow felt ready to cry. His eyes were iced over, unwilling to continue the conversation, to go on at all. He was done. And just like every other conversation on the subject, it would end here.

A waiter hurriedly excused himself from a table and walked briskly to them, standing beside the table. "Can I help you?"

Drew looked up at him with a glare, then stood from the table. He briskly pulled some cash from his pocket, set it on the table, and walked away.

May's eyes widened, she rose quickly, no notice of the scrape her chair caused as it was pushed from behind her. "Wait, Drew!"

But he was gone. The receptionist and all staring as he pushed out the door into the cold snowy night.

"Your boyfriend?" The waiter beside her asked.

Giving him a glare, somewhat ruined by the tears in her eyes, May grabbed her purse and ran the receptionist. "May I have my coat please?"

* * *

><p>Drew trudged through the snow angrily, back the hotel, as he arrived he pulled the door open quickly, annoyed at how hard he had to pull around the snow outside the door. He started heading up the stairs and stopped, May would be there. And right now, he really didn't want to have to face her.<p>

He stood in the doorway, shivering, and stupidly turned around and headed right back outside the door. He could find his way somewhere. It wasn't that cold. There wasn't that much snow. He could see a building outline there, he was sure of it. His world had been centered down to thoughts of denial. But he wasn't going back inside. Not yet.

Walking for a few minutes got him to the foot of a somewhat small clock tower, large, but nothing like some he had seen. Eleven fifty-eight. He groaned. Midnight again, and almost Christmas. He had probably ruined it in May's mind. And then he had left her there. Great. A sudden thought hit him and caused him to panic. She would go back to the hotel wouldn't she? She wouldn't go looking for him, would she? He sighed at last. Not even May. She had to know he would come back, and it was white as death out here. There was no way she would be able to find him. She had to know that . . . .

* * *

><p>Tears blurred May's vision, freezing on her face as she hurriedly stepped out of the restaurant. It had taken them a minute to get her jacket. A minute she didn't have. She started back to the hotel, running made difficult in heels through snow. It took her nearly a minute before she was pulling open the hotel door and rushing up the stairs to their room, slipping a little on the floor, wet from the snow guests had tracked in. When she finally reached their room, she collapsed in sobs. He wasn't there. She had expected it, but still . . . she had hoped. He was upset. Really upset. That was the only reason for him to go off on his own. She knew that he didn't like being alone, he was just more comfortable that way. Stretching his comfort zone was always a problem. And like everything else about him, it just made her want to know him a little more. Want to know why he felt the need to keep people so far away and place his comfort zone so wide.<p>

The door shut behind her, May slid down it to sit against it, coat curled against her as she placed her head in the fur of her coat and sobbed. She hadn't meant to upset him, to get him so angry. She had just wanted to get him thinking, to share a bit of what made the season so beautiful for her. Maybe he would listen to her, she thought, let down a little bit of his defenses on Christmas Eve. She should have known. . . Christmas didn't mean a thing to him.

* * *

><p>Drew breathed deeply, still leaning against the clock tower. He wasn't sure if he was breathing so hard because of the cold, his speedy departure, or his anger. But whatever the reason, he was done. He was so done. No more talking about him, about his past, about Christmas. Why the hell was it so important to May? Why couldn't she drop it for just one night?<p>

He jumped at a loud chime from above his head, slipping on the ice at his feet and hitting his head on the brick that made up the tower of the clock. His head spun as the clock began chiming. It was midnight.

If there had been colors in front of him, Drew was sure that they would have spun together and left him with a pot of rainbow in front of his gaze. As it was, all he saw was white and that one color continued to somehow spin and spin around in front of him as the clock continued its countdown. Until finally . . .

_**Dong.**_

. . . Midnight.


	3. Day 2

The feeling of warmth was the first thing to feel wrong.

The feel of felt and cotton was next.

After a moment Drew registered the lack of pain. His eyes stayed tightly closed against the spinning in his head. Except . . . there was none. Was there?

Drew's brow furrowed. He moved slightly, surprised to feel cushion beneath him, and opened his eyes. What he saw scared him.

There was fire. It took him a moment to realize that it was safely held behind bars. With it came the realization that he was staring at a fireplace, quickly followed by the knowledge that with a fireplace came a room. Which led him to the familiarity of that particular fireplace.

He blinked in shock and sat strait up on the couch.

The couch.

Drew looked around the room, shocked to find himself back in his hotel room.

What had happened?

A light moan caught his attention and Drew stood quickly, causing the blankets to fall from his body and pool on the around his ankles. He was sure his expression would have been treasured by any of his rivals. Mouth open in utter bafflement, hands grabbing the material of his PJ shirt and staring at it as if waiting for something strange to come out of his own chest.

The moan came again, quieter this time, but Drew still dropped the material, gaze coming back up to rest on the figure on the window ledge.

_May . . . _

Had she slept on the ledge again? Had she changed him to his PJ's? Had she found him lying in the snow?

Had . . . Had anyone found him?

In a flurry of desperate movement, Drew unwrapped his feet from his blankets and grabbed his purple bag running quickly to the bathroom and throwing his pack on the floor. He locked the door, breathing deeply and leaning both of his hands on the counter in front of the mirror.

'Okay, Drew. Calm down. You obviously hit your head harder than you thought you did. May called the cops or the firemen or something and they dragged your sorry butt back to your hotel room and . . . and . . . changed your . . . clothes? Yes, changed your clothes. It's not like they could have left you soaked to the bone, could they?'

Somewhat satisfied with that explanation, Drew looked down at himself again. Exactly the same clothes he had worn the night before donning his frame. Shorts and tee.

"What the . . . " he finally started out loud. He looked up at his reflection, staring himself in the face for several seconds, after a moment he raised his hand to the back of his neck, turning his head so he could see where he'd hit it as he pulled his hair up. It didn't hurt, not even a bump. No blood that he could see. The fireman had cleaned it. . . . Yeah, that was it.

Letting out a breath of pure anxiousness, Drew began to pull his clothes off and change into his outfit for the day. Opening his bag he tried desperately to ignore the fact that his usual outfit was sitting on the top, folded neatly like normal, when he was almost sure that he had placed it in the wash bin the night before. . . .

Groaning angrily at himself, Drew pulled the shirt out and pulled it over his head. It smelled like laundry too, fresh and clean. . . .

Yelling at his mind to shut up and stop over-evaluating everything, Drew pulled on the rest of his clothes and left the bathroom. Throwing his bag back next to the couch again, Drew turned back to look at May, a frown on his features. This was wrong. Screwed up. Had he really hit his head that badly? Sighing, Drew started over to May, wondering if he should put her in bed. But no, he shrugged it off. This was May. She had probably been up early that morning and fallen asleep on the sill. There was no way that she had slept their all night again. She would have been more careful. And after last night . . . . Could he really . . .

Still not sure that he was making the correct decision, Drew grabbed his wallet and headed out the door. He stopped and glanced at the clock on his way out.

'11:00'

'Must be working this time. It moved.'

He reached the lunch area, and, finding no one in the spot he had sat in the day before, headed towards it again. Sitting down, he was only alone for a moment before a familiar red skirt and off matched green apron blocked his gaze.

"Hey."

Drew looked at her suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. "Working today?"

She laughed lightly, "I'm _always_ working."

He nodded.

"What can I get for you?

He stared at his menu for a moment. "Do you have any specials?"

"Yeah, we have a Christmas special. Only breakfast is available right now though."

His head shot up to look at her quizzically. "Breakfast?"

She blinked, surprised by his tone. "Yeah. . . It's-This is when we serve breakfast. You know, morning and . . . all that."

Grinding his teeth in anxiousness, Drew glanced around her to the clock again.

'8:45'

"You have got to be kidding me."

Aleksi only stared at him, looking as though she were ready to leave.

"I-I think my clock's still broken."

"In your room?"

"Yeah."

"I can send someone up to fix it if you like."

He looked her strait in the face, searching for some hint of sarcasm. He found only thinly veiled concern. "You already did, didn't you?"

She stared at him blankly, her toe starting to scuff the floor. "I'm sorry. What?"

"Yesterday, you said you would send somebody up there to fix it then too."

Aleksi's expression would be almost comical were he not as worried as her for his mental state. Finally she shook her head, bringing her pad up to her gaze. "Note to self: Be more careful who you invite into a hotel in the middle of the night."

Drew stared.

"So . . . what do you want?"

"What?"

"To eat." She tapped her name tag. "That's why I'm here. And I only have a couple seconds. Is there anything I can get you?"

He wanted to push it, he really did. But something was telling him to leave it here. And a hushed whisper of "Aleksi" from a waiter hurrying her was enough to shut him up.

"I'm sorry. Do you know what you want now?" She looked a little nervous, definitely rushed, her heels turning as if ready to spin and run back to the kitchen.

He shook himself from his thoughts and almost made a lost gesture with his hands. Finally sighing, he muttered, "I don't care. Whatever's fine."

"Price range?"

He stared at her in bafflement and repeated his answer from the day before. "None."

She nodded and pushed from her stillness quite quickly, nearly running back into the kitchen. He almost felt bad for her. Almost. But he was cut off from his ramblings as May showed up, sitting in the seat across from him.

"Hi Drew!" she said cheerily.

He was showing more expression in just the morning than he had in an entire month. Mouth open, eyes wide, he just sat still, surprised by her usual chipper attitude. Her brow came together and he stiffened. _'__Here__it__comes.__'_

"Are you alright, Drew?"

"Wh-Aren't you. . . You're fine?"

She raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"You . . ." he relaxed his posture a bit, leaning forward on the table and looking over her face, waiting to see a hint of anger or sadness. "You're really not upset?"

"Why would I be upset? Are you talking about leaving the hotel room without me? That's-I'm fine about that. Or . . . what are you-I'm sorry, I'm a little confused."

He knew he looked more confused than she did, but he couldn't bring himself to care about it more than the emotions he was feeling.

Of course, Aleksi chose just that moment to show back up, placing a plate of waffles before him. Butter and strawberries on top, whipped topping placed in a small serving dish on the side. Exactly like . . . Drew looked at her as if she were the one insane.

She stared back. "Sorry, do you not want it? You didn't strike me as having a sweet tooth, so I left the syrup off. I can get syrup if you want it.?"

Drew looked at Aleksi for one long moment, then turned and looked at May. They both shared nearly the same expression, May more kind, both confused. Looking as if they'd missed the key point of the conversation.

"Really?" he said finally. "Are you guys-What is-?" He looked around the room, as if it held the answers to the nameless questions he felt like asking.

"I've . . . got to go." Aleksi said finally. She turned to May. "Can I get anything for you?"

May nodded. "Chicken soup and hot cocoa please?"

Aleksi missed the look of pure bemusement Drew clearly gave May as she walked away.

May blushed under his scrutiny. "What? I like it."

"But you . . . you had the same thing yesterday."

May frowned. "No I didn't."

"Yes, you did. We sat right here, and you had chicken noodle soup and hot cocoa."

"Drew, are you okay?"

Drew groaned and buried his head in his hands. "No! Of course not."

"Did something happen?" May asked. Drew could hear the concern coating her voice. Drew was silent. May sighed. "If you feel like telling me, I'll listen." Drew stiffened and May sighed again.

After a moment of uninterrupted silence, May looked at the red and green candles on their table and mumbled fateful words in a hopeful tone. "It's Christmas Eve."

Drew fainted.

* * *

><p>He woke with a strange sense of déjà vu in what seemed to be a white room. "What is this?" He stood warily, the white walls standing out around him. "What's going on?" he asked himself. There was no door. No window. No accents. Only endless white, just like the snow when he'd fallen. For a second he thought he was being delusional, that the entire morning had been a delusion induced by him hitting his head. He was lying on the ground, cold snow seeping through his clothes.<p>

Then a voice rang out and made him forget it.

"_Drew . . . "_

He jolted, spinning uselessly in the small room, seeing no one. "What-Who's there?"

"_You've wasted a lot of time."_

"What?" He moved in a full circle again, fists still clenching at his sides. "What do you mean? Where are you?" He felt old insecurities acting up. This was so not within his comfort zone. So strange. Vaguely he registered that the voice resembled a young girl.

"_You have eleven days."_

"What?"

"_I'm granting a wish."_

"What? Who are you? What's going on? Answer me!"

There was quiet for several moments in which Drew spun in the silent seamless room. Then finally a small voice rang out.

"_You don't like me?"_

Drew stopped. "What?"

"_You don't like me?"_

His mouth dropped open. "I don't even know who you are!"

The small girlish voice laughed and he repressed a shudder as it seemed to echo around him, cute as it was . . . .

"_Yes, that's the strange part for you guys isn't it?"_

Drew stiffened and muttered, "What?"

"_You __have__ the__ same __question __to __voice__ all__ of__ them,__ don__'__t__ you?__ I__ told__ you,__ I__'__m__ here__ to__ grant__ a__ wish!_ _I__ always__ grant __wishes __this __time__ of __year, __and__ yours __is__ one __of__ the __best __so __far.__"_

"But- I haven't wished for anything!"

Another laugh, cheerful and cute. _"__Not__ you.__ Your __friend.__"_

Drew stilled. "May?"

"_Aw, that's the one."_

"But-But if she made the wish-"

"_It's a wish for you Drew."_

A small look of wonderment passed Drew's face, though not cheerful. "For me. . . ."

"_Mmm-hmm. That's right."_

"I don't understand, you grant wishes?"

"_Something like that." _

Drew felt his body stiffening again. "What do you mean, something like that?"

"_People__ don__'__t __always __take __advantage__ of __the __wish. __I__ can __make __it_ _possible,__ but __people __have __to __do __it __themselves__ ultimately. __After__ all-__" _ Drew shook as he heard his own voice echo in the room around them,

**_"Real rewards take effort. You can't just wish for something."_**

Drew found his mouth suddenly very dry. "What are you?"

A light chuckle. _"__Call __me__.__.__.__an __angel. __Yes,__ an __angel__ sounds__ nice. __Doesn__'__t __it __make __it__ feel __more __magical?__"_

"I . . . don't really see magic in this. I'm obviously dreaming. There's no way around it."

Drew could've sworn the room was frowning with the sudden chill that passed through his bones.

"_Nobody ever appreciates this. I'm not just passing out wishes willy nilly here. This is a lot of work for me too. Do you know how hard it is to manipulate time?"_

Drew jumped. "You're responsible for the repeat this morning?"

"_Of course. Do you have another suggestion?"_

" . . . Déjà vu, concussion, delusions, dreams. There are plenty of other ways."

"_Wow, you really don't believe in magic at all."_

"Well, of course not. How could I? You're telling me magic does all this?"

"_Nice thought isn't it?"_

"No, actually it isn't."

"_. . ."_

"What?"

"_This __again.__" _A sigh._ "__Look, __what __if __I__ told __you__ it __was __science. __What __would__ you __say?__"_

"That would at least make sense!"

"_How?"_

Drew froze. He had yelled out without thinking. He found himself without an answer.

"_See? And if it was science what would it change? It's still happening. What difference does it make?"_

Drew's fists shook. "Let me go. I'm sleeping. I've got to be. I'm waking up now."

"_Finished with the conversation already, Drew? Well, I'm sorry to say: You're going to have to hold a conversation longer that this before I'll end this. I'm glad we had this talk. I just thought you should know. You have eleven days. Got that? You already wasted one fighting and running away from your problems. Like usual."_

Drew's fists tightened.

The room suddenly got warmer. Drew had the distinct impression that someone was smiling, the same way he had felt the frown earlier. May's voice echoed around him.

"_**I wish for Drew . . . to find a reason to love Christmas."**_

Drew's fists softened. Why did it matter so much to her? He just didn't understand

_"You're going to have to figure it out."_ He jumped at the voice cutting into his thoughts. _"Find a reason to love Christmas. And I mean really love it. I don't do things half-way. And I'm not going to be helping you like this again. Consider it courtesy on my part. Not many people get this much of a lead on what they need to do. Then again, not many people put the effort she did into their wish._

_"Anyway, you have eleven days. To the dot. If you can't do it, don't wait on me to save your sorry ass." _He shivered. The feeling, the knowledge of a smile crawled through his skin. "_You can wake up now."_

He blinked. Wake up?

"Drew!"

Oh right. He was asleep, wasn't he? That's why this was happening. He was having a dream.

"Drew, come on!"

"May . . ." Drew muttered.

Drew opened his eyes to see May staring down at him, eyes wide and fearful. For just a moment, all that mattered was her face, the edges blurred and glowed and gave her the illusion of being an angel. Then he finished waking up and his eyes widened.

Drew sat up quickly. May sat beside him, hands reaching forward but still in the awkwardly in the air, as if unsure is she should touch him. He knew people were staring but he didn't care.

"Are you ok?" May asked worriedly. Drew nodded, mind still on his strange dream. "Should I call an ambulance?"

Her question snapped him out of his thoughts. "What? No, I'm fine." May stared at him doubtfully as he stood, wobbling slightly and sitting back down in his seat. "I'm fine." He repeated.

May nodded, respecting it, and sat down beside him. Softly she asked. "Are you sure?"

Drew scowled. "Yes. I'm sure. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to worry you." He winced internally. _'__I__ can__'__t__ believe__ I__ fainted.__ How__ did__ that__ happen?__ That__'__s__ never__ happened__ to __me __before.__ I__ didn__'__t__ know__ I__ could __faint.__'_

Drew looked at his waffles and stubbornly started digging in, burying thoughts of wishes and concern under delicious tasting food.

May looked surprised as he ate a little more vigorously than normal then sighed and turned to her soup.

"Drew?" She said suddenly, half way through the meal. "Do you think we could . . . do something later?"

Drew stopped with a bite of strawberry half way to his mouth._ 'No way.'_

"We could. . ."

_'No way.'_

". . . look at Christmas lights, or something."

Drew stood suddenly, making the table jolt as he did so. "I'm sorry, I'll be right back."

May watched him in confused sadness as he made his way to the kitchen.

"Excuse me." He stopped in the doorway, getting the attention of a older Latino woman with curly black hair. "Do you have a calendar I could look at?"

"I'm sorry. Customers aren't allowed to come back here."

"I don't mean to bother you. I really need to look at a Calendar. It'll only take a moment."

Sighing, the woman walked over to a calendar and pulled it down, handing it to him.

"Thanks." He muttered. Then he simply stared at the paper. "X's" marked through all of the days, stopping on December twenty-third. Stubbornly he raised his gaze to the woman again. "Sorry to bother you again." He could see her patience was wearing thin. "Do you know what today is?" Then she looked almost humorous.

"It's Christmas Eve of course."

"You mean Christmas."

"Excuse me?"

"You mean Christmas. Christmas Eve was yesterday."

Her mouth fell open. He was willing to bet that he was one of the few to see this expression on her face. "No." She stated simply. "I mean, Christmas Eve." She gestured to the counter with a knife. "You can leave that on the counter as you leave."

Drew wasn't willing to test that knife.

When he made it back to May, he found himself at a loss for words. Was this real? Was it really happening? Maybe him and May had mixed up days and thought that yesterday was Christmas Eve? That was it. That was the only explanation.

"May,"

She looked up hopefully, but he didn't have time to ponder her expression.

"Yesterday."

May's brows furrowed in confusion. "I wanted . . . " he stared at her for a few uninterrupted moments and finally lost his nerve. "Never mind," he muttered. "I just think you should know-" he tried to adopt his regular feel, smirk and relaxed posture as he sat his fork down in front of him. "We got mixed up apparently. Today's Christmas Eve."

May stared at him blankly. "Um . . . I'm sorry. What?"

Drew's shoulders dropped. "We thought it was Christmas Eve yesterday. We were wrong."

"I'm sorry Drew, I think you're confused."

Drew just stared. It was simply impossible. There was just no way . . . .

May looked down then, blushing. "So, would you consider doing something with me?"

Drew thought of something then. She wouldn't want to go to the same place two days in a row would she? "Uh yeah. Let's go out to eat."

"We're doing that."

Drew stubbornly ignored the fact that she had said the same thing the day before. "No I mean . . . a nicer place. A restaurant."

May smiled lightly. "Yeah, that could be fun."

Drew couldn't stop his reaction. His mouth dropped open. "But-"

"But?"

Finally groaning, Drew dropped his head to his hand. "Fine. Forget it. Ten again?"

May gave him a strange look. "Again?"

"Ye- Ugh, never mind. Ten it is."

May smiled. "It's a date."

"Yeah . . . "

Again, the day passed uneventfully, Drew stubbornly did everything separate from the day before, not feeling up to more strange staring contests.

When it was time to go, Drew searched through his bag for the clothes he had payed for the day before. They weren't there. Insecurities floated towards the surface. Drew quickly came up with explanations to quiet the yelling match in his head. 'They were probably soaked when I fell down. They're in the wash now. I'll just- I'll buy something new.'

The shop owner in the hotel seemed to ignore the fact that Drew had been there the day before. Drew ignored him ignoring the fact.

Standing inside the door of the restaurant some time later, Drew felt his insides preparing to flip. What if it happened just like yesterday? Why had he suggested they try this again? Oh right, he thought she was going to drop it. It was May, why had he assumed that again?

He stopped mentally rambling as May entered. Her coat covered most of her dress, but his gaze immediately went to the sparkling red heels. 'Same as yesterday . . . Okay stop. Of course it's the same as yesterday, why would she go buy new clothes?' He winced internally as the man from before took her jacket for her, leaving her in the same dress. Ironically the familiarity was making him uncomfortable. Usually it was the other way around. It was putting him on edge. There was no comfort in this. None at all. He struggled, trying to stifle his confusion and frustration that had building since the moment he had woken.

May walked to him and smiled. "Hi Drew. You look great."

He stifled his response. Instead nodding. "You too." It took all his effort to stop there. He turned to follow the waiter beside them, May following. The waiter pulled out the chair for her, much as he had the night before, Drew sat rather gruffly.

May smiled at him then. "So, any ideas?" She motioned to the menu. Drew shrugged, forcing himself to meet her gaze. She frowned, looking concerned suddenly.

"Are you alright?" She took note of the way he avoided her gaze, not _avoiding_ really. More like he was trying to look her in the eyes and just couldn't. "Drew what's wrong. Look-"

Drew scowled suddenly, startling her, and raised his gaze to her. "I'm fine." He then started pointing out some items on the menu she might like, avoiding her gaze again as she sent him worried glances. "How's that?"

She jumped, caught staring. "Oh! Uh, yeah. That sounds fine." She honestly wasn't sure what he had suggested. Duck maybe?

Drew nodded and told the waiter what he wanted, who then took down both their orders and left.

"This is nice." She whispered.

He nodded. "I guess-" he stopped suddenly, a peculiar look on his face.

"Are you . . . alright?" she asked again.

He shook his head, smiling in a forced way. "Um, let's not talk about that right now. Why don't we . . . " he struggled for a different topic. "Let's talk about contests."

May blinked. "Right now?"

He nodded. "Why not."

She seemed to agree with that point, and soon they had ventured into a relatively safe topic, which held both of their attention most of the night. Drew found himself relieved.

Then came the question.

"What . . . What did your family do to celebrate Christmas? Was it like this?"

Drew froze. She should know. Would she really ask something like that after the night before? Unless . . .

Usually this is where May would apologize and start on another topic, sensing his discomfort and moving on. But when he looked up he only found her staring at him, looking sad and hopeful. It must matter to her quite a bit to still be pushing it, he realized.

"I . . ." He really didn't want to fight. Not again. But still. This topic was not up for discussion. "I'm sorry –I'm, I think we should talk about you instead." He had seen this work before. Get the girl talking about herself, thinking about herself. Except May wasn't most girls was she? One glance at her told him that she didn't really care to talk about herself. She wanted to talk about _him_.

"It's just that, I'm curious? You've never really talked about when you were a kid before and I was wondering."

'There's a reason for that.' Drew thought in irritation.

"Can we . . . please talk about something else?" He rarely used 'please' in such discussions. May stared at him in suspicion. He got the feeling that she had decided to talk to him tonight. She was determined once she had started.

"Is there anything you can tell me?"

Desperate to not have a repeat of the night before, Drew searched his memories for something, something small, to tell her. He was surprised when he realized that there really was _nothing_ he could think of that he was comfortable telling her.

He laughed bitterly, surprising even himself. May stared at him in sadness. "No-" he muttered. He knew his words held the same sound his laugh had. Fake happiness. Completely bitter. "There's nothing." He brought his hand to his hair, rubbing unconsciously at the front of his scalp. He never touched his hair in public. He never bit his lip either. But he was, and he hadn't even consciously recognized the biting yet.

May had. She sat, at a loss for words. She had never seen him so undone. To an outsider, this might not seem too bad. But she knew, this was undone. He was showing extreme discomfort. But he hadn't yelled yet. He hadn't shut her out. That had to be a good thing. She hesitated continuing, but decided finally to just do it. But when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. She was too caught up in his expression. He was looking away from her, bitterness and angry hurt barely hidden in his eyes.

Her voice alien to herself, she finally muttered, "why don't you tell me about it?"

He laughed again, though this time it was more of a scoff. She stayed frozen, absorbing his reactions. He glanced at her, keeping the same position, then looked away again. "I'm sorry, but that's not happening."

At the abrupt refusal, May found herself pursing her lips again. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why won't you tell me?"

He dropped his hand to the table, making a motion with his hand as if to say, 'Why do you think?' "Isn't it obvious?" His patience was up. He had been on edge the entire day. It almost didn't seem to matter what he said, but he still found himself pulling back. "I don't want to talk about it. May, leave me alone."

"Fine."

"Fine?" he looked at her in complete shock as she frowned at her food.

"Yeah. Let's just . . . eat OK?"

"I'm done." He stated blinking.

May still frowned. "So am I." A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she stared at her empty plate. "Just promise me something?" His breath caught as she looked him strait in the face, hope so deep in left him speechless. "Someday . . . Someday tell me?"

He looked between her eyes and despite himself, found himself beginning to nod, he stopped, knowing he couldn't promise such a thing, but the look in her eye made him finish. How could he say no to that?

At that moment, the faint ringing of a large bell could be heard. Drew seemed to be the only one to notice it, straining his hearing for it. For some reason listening intently. Would it be like last night? Of course not. He was dreaming then . . . or now. Was now a dream? Was he still laying out in the snow? But no, this was real, so had yesterday been . . .

"Drew?" a quiet. sweet voice cut through his thoughts.

He stared back, absorbing her as he simply stared, straining his hearing to listen to the clock tower as it finally struck the twelth mark.

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><p><strong>AN Sooooo, confused yet? If so, let me know and I'll try to clear things up for you. I'm not going to mess up your view of the chapter by saying something negative, let's just say that I feel it could be better. But I really don't have time to change it. I had other ideas, but since I'm updating every day, the only thing I can really do is take what comes to me at the time and post it. I don't have time to change my mind or rewrite it, so I hope you all still enjoy. I also don't have time to do much proofreading, so I hope the grammar is alright. :}**

**I'm sorry about the lack of review replies. I just don't have time to reply to any right now with all the writing I'm already doing. I will be sure to leave you all more personal replies when I'm done with the story. But please know that I appreciate each and every one. :D Thank you!**

**Please keep reviewing! It means the world to me! See you tomorrow!**

**PG17 **


	4. Day 3

**A/N The story really starts up the next couple of chapters, but I hope that this one is OK. I was very rushed when I did it. I hardly have time to add this authors note. Please enjoy. Let me know what you think, OK?**

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><p>A spinning sensation, dizziness-as the time when he had fallen and hit his head.<p>

And then . . .

Soft sheets.

Warmth on his face.

A gentle moan behind him.

Drew's eyes flew open, only to be met with his hotel fireplace.

He wasn't sure how long he lay there, and he didn't really care. But he laid there, eyes wide in disbelief, mouth open in shock, hair mussed from sleeping but completely awake.

This was wrong. This was so not happening. It was easy to write off, right? I mean, he was in bed. He had just fallen asleep again. . . . And May had somehow dragged him up there . . . No, wait! He had been so tired that he had forgotten falling asleep. . . .

Crap.

Drew jolted out of bed; for once completely uncaring of the mess of blankets he left on the floor and stood. May was in the sill of the window. He winced, tried to not think about it, and ran to her side, shaking her awake.

"May!"

May opened her eyes, sleepy and surprised as he shook her, and proceeded to fall off of the sill onto the floor.

Drew winced as she righted herself, caught between laughter and remorse. "Sorry."

She stood sleepily, righting her clothes and gave him a sleepy half glare. "That hurt."

"Sorry." He repeated.

Then he remembered why he had woken her. He surprised May by placing both of his hands on her shoulders and staring at her intently. May stopped fixing her clothes. "What's today?"

May glanced back and forth between both his eyes, conflicted emotions in her own. "Christmas Eve?" she stated, almost unsurely.

Drew's eye twitched.

"Are you sure?"

"Uh . . . yeah?"

And then the denial came in. "No! It's-It's Christmas. Or-Or the day after Christmas. Or. . . Or . . . " Running out of suitable excuses, Drew pulled his hands back to his face and buried his head in his hands.

The feeling of a hand on his shoulder surprised him. "Drew?" He glanced up at her and was met with the same look from the day before. He groaned. He was getting so tired of getting that look.

"I'm fine." he snapped. Obviously not, Drew didn't snap at people.

May winced, and he regretted it a moment before she was smiling again. "Well, should we go to breakfast?"

Drew glanced at the clock.

'10:00'

"Sure. I'm sure the stupid clock's wrong again anyway."

May turned. "The clock's wrong?"

He nodded.

"Oh. Well, let's go!" she started to turn then stopped at Drew's quiet snickering. "What?" she asked, annoyance laced her tone.

He raised an eyebrow and nodded down at her attire. May blinked and looked down at her Pajamas. "Oh . . . yeah." A quiet chuckle came from Drew's direction and May looked up to glare at him. "You're one to talk." Then she walked briskly past Drew to the bathroom.

Drew's mouth twitched. Her anger never ceased to amuse him. It wasn't really that she was upset. It was more the way she acted, stiffening and twitching in annoyance. Nose crinkling and lips pursing when she glared. It was more . . . cute than anything.

Shaking himself from it, Drew ran and grabbed his clothes. Somehow she had wiped the reason for his panicking away. It had been so easy. What was it about her that did that? He changed quickly while May was still in the bathroom, and was pulling on his shoes when she came out. "Ready?" he asked her quickly. She nodded and he grabbed her hand, and nearly dragged her down to the lunch area, completely missing the blush staining her cheeks. He didn't usually not notice things about her, but at the moment he was just a little bit preoccupied.

He led May to the same empty table they had used the two days before. She sat next to him once he had finally let go of her hand. Despite the reason for his taking it, her palm was still tingling. She held the hand in her other, tracing her palm and struggling to keep the grin away.

Drew was completely oblivious, glancing around the room as if looking for something. And maybe he was. A sign, for what he wasn't really sure.

"Can I get you something?" Drew internally winced when he saw familiar red skirt and green apron. He glanced up, hoping silently that it would be someone else, annoyed when it wasn't.

He sighed loudly and buried his face in his hand once more, May watching on in concern.

"You alright?"

Drew mumbled inaudibly into his hands.

"Okay. . ."

May turned to her and winced. "Chicken noodle soup for me-"

Drew jumped up so suddenly that May stopped talking. "No. No chicken noodle soup, aren't you sick of it? I mean you . . . you . . ." he trailed off, seeing both girls stare at him with similar looks of shock. "Fine, whatever. Get whatever you want." He went back to sulking.

"Can-Can I get you anything?" Aleksi asked uncertainly.

Drew continued to mumble into his hands. "Anything but waffles." When she opened her mouth, Drew held up a hand without looking up to cut her off, "No price range."

She blinked in confusion, then nodded and left.

"Drew, are you OK?" May asked more without uncertainty than anytime before it.

"Of course not." he mumbled. "Some psycho freak is making me repeat the worst day of the year over and over again."

May felt that she should probably find out if he walked and talked in his sleep because this was so not Drew. When she opened her mouth to inquire about his mental state he continued speaking.

"Could be worse. Could be repeating Christmas." He looked up at her. "Wait. This is-This is your fault!" He stood suddenly, pointing at her. May leaned back in her seat as the surrounding tables turned to stare at them.

After an uninterrupted moment of silence May muttered. "Drew, sit down."

"No, really! This is - You made that stupid wish and now-!" He stopped and May blinked, a small flush lighting her face.

"You-You heard that?"

"It was kind of hard not to."

Of course Drew was referring to something completely different than over hearing her, still May flushed a bit more and looked down at her lap. "I just. . . " She began twisting the fabric of her skirt in her hands nervously and he faltered, finger dropping from its accusatory place. "I want you to be happy . . . on Christmas."

"Wh-When am I ever sad?" he asked finally. It was so surreal. Almost having this conversation with May.

"You are Drew," she whispered. Her gaze rose to his and he was startled by the sadness. "You cry."

Drew stiffened.

"Every year."

For a moment he just stared at her in horrified silence. Then his teeth came together and he felt his usual denial acting up again. "Like hell I do!"

May seemed to curl in on herself, tears ready to spring. She pushed them down just as stubbornly and looked up at him angrily. "You do."

He was so thrown off with the simple statement. It wasn't her usual upset reply when they were arguing. She didn't leave room for argument. Just stated it.

He didn't know what to do.

Hand lowering completely to his side, head lowering, Drew's shoulders shook. This was not . . . he didn't . . .

He turned and ran.

"Drew!"

He ignored her.

May watched him go with guilt, wondering if she should go after him or let him cool down. She was probably the last person he would want to see at the moment.

Drew breathed deeply, trying to calm the raging emotions in his head. This was hell. Absolute hell. There was no way this was happening to him. A repeat of Christmas Eve? For how long?

Suddenly the dream of the white room came back to him. Was that it? It was like trying to remember a long lost memory. What had the dream said?

_'You're going to have to be able to hold a conversation longer than this before I'll end this.'_

He slowed, hands unclenching from his fists. Was that it? Did he need to allow himself sit through uncomfortable conversations? What was the point in that?

He wasn't sure, but with a breath of frustration he stopped and turned, walking back to where he was sure May was still waiting.

May was surprised when Drew dropped back into the bench across from her again, expression tightening over a forced smile, eyes twitching. "Sorry. What were we talking about?"

There was no way he had forgotten. But May kept her mouth shut, thinking she had pushed him enough for the moment. She shook her head and smiled lightly. "Never mind." She reached across the table and placed a hand gently over his tight fist. "Thank you for listening. Let's just eat."

Drew didn't know whether to be relieved or frustrated. Would he have to bring it up himself? But he didn't need to, did he? He was back at the table, sitting across from her. He had come back; he was ready to face it. That was what mattered. Wasn't it?

A familiar face showed up, plopping a plate of pancakes in front of him. Butter on top, sweet strawberry syrup to the side.

"You don't strike me as a sweet tooth, so I left the syrup off. Strawberry sauce on the side. I can get syrup if you want it."

Much to Aleksi's amusement and May's quiet concern, Drew dropped his forehead against the table.

* * *

><p>Drew decided to test his theory. If all he needed to do was be able to stay still during May's prodding, he would do it. He decided the best way to do so, would be to invite her to the same restaurant. He seemed to be setting himself up for difficulty every time he invited her there, why should now be any different?<p>

May of course agreed, and Drew carefully set everything up as the night before. She had been gentler then (though he hated admitting to himself that he wanted her to be gentle with her prodding). He really didn't feel like repeating the fiasco that was the first night.

May arrived in the same dress as the previous two nights and when led to their table, Drew didn't wait for the waiter to stop before sitting where he knew they were being taken. The waiter looked confused but simply shrugged to himself, telling them he would be back in a moment to take their order.

The meal was normal. May smiled and Drew clenched his teeth more than normal, hardly touching his food as he tried to gather courage to start the conversation. Finally he said, "It wasn't like this."

May stared at him in surprise. "What?"

"Christmas. . ." he muttered. "When I was a kid. It wasn't like this."

The air became thick, as May stared at him in shock. He knew that she had been planning on bringing it up. If this night was anything like the two before it . . . and of course, it was. But he had done it. He had done it.

He hoped the perpetrator of that dream was watching.

After another moment of thicker silence May asked gently, "What was it like?"

Drew struggled with his answer. He wanted this over. Done with. If this was what he had to do it would be worth it. But still . . . What was he willing to say?

"It was . . . different."

May just stared.

"Harder." He elaborated. Still not enough apparently. Sighing, he dropped his silverware and sat back in his chair, wondering if this was enough if May stayed silent. But it might not be, and that was a chance he wasn't willing to take.

"It was . . ." May watched him stare at the ceiling thoughtfully, drowning in memories. "I don't remember much that was good about it actually. My parents didn't care. I mean, I think my mom did. But my dad sure as hell didn't. It was, that was when . . ." he stopped. He didn't need to go there did he? He was already opening up to her about it. "He didn't try." He said finally. Then quieter. "He never tried."

May nodded slowly, not speaking. Afraid he would stop if she did. She was probably right.

He wondered what else he could say. His heart was pounding. This was hard, he didn't know if he could say much more. What else was safe to say? "He left." He whispered. The words left before he was conscious of them, and after that he choked trying to keep himself from saying anymore. It didn't work. Maybe she had been right. Maybe he did need to talk. It was becoming harder to stop himself. "It was on Christmas. They fought with each other and he decided he was done."

May sat still, absorbing the information. It explained some things. Perhaps the reason that Drew always left when things got uncomfortable; though she was sure he wouldn't appreciate the comparison. He was shaking a bit, his mouth opened as if to continue but then shut. May reached across the table, taking his hand once more and speaking for the first time since he had started. "I'm alright Thank you for opening up to me. It really means a lot." She paused. "Thank you."

Drew stared at her. He knew she was stopping it here for him, but if she wasn't pushing it then there was no reason for him to, was there? He nodded and looked away. He wanted to say something. It felt so wrong to say what he had said and not say anything else, but his throat felt blocked. It hurt, everything hurt. His chest, his heart, his throat. He didn't know what it meant but he didn't want to continue. He couldn't. So instead he just nodded. Hearing the start of the bells that told it was midnight, and hoping that this would be the last night.

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><p><strong>AN So there you go. This will get Christmasy as the the story goes, so look forward to it and keep reading. If I had time I would add more but I don't. I'll be sure to be adding in the OC's that have been sent to me soon. Thank you everyone for your OC's! I'm very excited! Let me know if you as a reader would like me to add an OC for you as well. They will only be included in the story for incredibly small moments honestly, but it could still be fun. I've already asked a couple of my friends here on FF to help me so you'll be seeing them soon. I'll add who I asked in the next chapter. I really am out of time.**

**Merry Christmas! Ja ne people!**

**P.S. Yes, Drew sort of curses a couple of times. Somehow I really think that would fit him in this much stress. I can't see him say the worse words, but I think most people would slip "hell" into those little moments. Hope that's OK. It just seemed to fit.  
><strong>


	5. Days 4 & 5

**A/N I'm sorry for the missing updates. This chapter is covering two days so it's pretty long. I tried not to overdo it. :D It was hard to get down. Updating is becoming very difficult with my schedule. Still I tried to do it well and I hope you enjoy it!**

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><p>"Noooo." Drew moaned, closing his eyes against the fire in front of his gaze. "Why? When did – Why?" He moaned again and pulling his pillow over his head.<p>

"Drew?"

Drew didn't bother pulling the pillow off his head. "Why are you awake?"

"Um, it's morning?"

"You were asleep yesterday at this time, and the day before that . . . and the day before that."

May blinked. "Yeah but, it's morning right? Do I have to do that every morning?"

Drew only groaned louder at her obliviousness. "I must have woke you up." He muttered finally. "Otherwise you'd still be in bed, like always. . . ."

May frowned. "That's rude."

Drew laughed bitterly. "Trust me; you have no idea what I'm talking about."

May wasn't sure if she should be offended or not. The words seemed to contrast with his attitude somehow. "Well . . ." she started finally, apparently finding nothing to make a note on. "Do you want to go get some breakfast?"

Drew uncovered his head just for a moment to stare at the clock.

'9:00'

Drew glared at the clock. It stared innocently back. He covered his head again. May was torn between being amused and concerned. "For all we know it could be afternoon. Stupid clock."

May blinked and looked at it. "It's nine. What are you talking about, Drew?"

Drew's hand was the only thing visible as it came above the covers and waved her words away. "Just you wait. Who knows what time it'll actually be when we get down there. That's clock's always wrong."

May couldn't think of anything to say for a few moments, thourally confused. "We just got here last night. What do you mean, 'always?'"

Drew sighed deeply, pulling the covers down and sitting up, running his hand through his now messy hair. "Forget it. It'll all be a waste in the morning anyway." He bit his lip almost right after. 'No. I can't think like that. I need to get out of this. I can't do that if I give up.'

May's lips pursed in frustration. "You're not making any sense."

Drew choked on his laughter. "I'm making plenty of sense. You just don't understand what I'm saying."

Drew jumped at the sudden, heavy footsteps behind him, followed moments after by the loud slamming of a door. He winced. "I guess that did sound pretty bad," he muttered to himself. Then he winced. Now he was talking to himself. He never talked to himself.

'Fine.' He ignored his resolution not to talk to himself. 'Fine. If she's angry there's no reason hanging around here." He tried not to think about her part in the curse that was becoming his life. What was he supposed to do now? Make a bold declaration of his past? Tell her every single detail of his childhood? Kiss her under the mistletoe to prove he didn't hate everything about the freaking season?

He paused with tying the laces of his shoe. Actually . . . that might not be so bad. Then he shook himself from the thought. That was definitely not going to fix anything. A clatter came from behind him in the direction of the bathroom and he frowned. She probably wasn't up for it now anyway.

Drew left without telling her.

He entered the same lunch area as always, glaring at the empty table he had sat in the last couple of days, sitting there empty as always. Drew swiftly changed directions and headed towards a table on the opposite side of the room.

"What can I get for you?"

Drew internally sighed when the same outfit from the last three days greeted his gaze, but smiled full out when he looked up and saw a girl with blond hair and a different face.

"Finally!" he blurted.

She jumped a bit at his outburst, bright blue eyes widening in alarm. "S-Sorry about the wait."

He blinked, eyes widening as he understood. "No, that's not what I meant. Sorry about that."

She looked at him a little doubtfully, then nodded in acceptance. Almost immediately her countenance brightened and she smiled as she raised her pad. "Well then, what can I get you today?"

Drew paused and picked up his menu for the first time, then dropped it. He stared at her a moment too long for her comfort then said. "You choose."

"Um. . . "

"Really, I don't care."

She looked at the menu nervously and asked, "How about eggs and bacon?"

He usually didn't enjoy the meal but for some reason he really didn't care. "Yeah, sure," he said finally. He forced a smile. "Sounds great." She nodded and left him sitting there.

He turned to look at the entrance again. He wondered if May would come down soon or avoid him till her anger sizzled. He wasn't sure. He sat in relative silence as he waited for his order. He soon realized why he had been subconsciously choosing the same table everyday. It was the most remote. This was surrounded by people. No privacy. It wasn't like it really mattered. He was eating breakfast only after all, but still . . .

Feeling completely lost and perhaps trying to take his mind off of it more than anything else, Drew placed his head in his hand and observed the people around him. There was a girl a little behind him to his right with lush black hair that fell to her shoulders and curled. She absently tapped her spoon against a china glass cup and moved some photos around on the table with her other. A small smile graced her lips and Drew frowned. Instinctively at the cheerful, but thoughtful, display. Childish as it was, he wondered how she could be happy. What the point to her happiness was if she was going to forget it the next day. It was almost like a dream, as if the only one whose emotions mattered were his, because he was the only one to remember. On the same coin, how did it matter for him if he couldn't change it?

With a soft sigh, he turned his attention to another table. A young man sat at the table. He was alone but it didn't seem to faze him. He leaned his hands on the table outside of his black winter jacket, a smile on his face as the waitress beside him filled his cup with coffee. She grinned reluctantly at something he said and wandered back to the kitchen with his order. He sat back in the bench and picked up his coffee, glancing around the room once, seeming a little more melancholy once he was alone again. He shrugged to himself and turned again, this time a young couple caught his gaze.

They seemed to be a new couple, or perhaps the love in the season had gotten to them. Their hands were grasped over the table, eyes lit with romance and enjoyment simply to be together. As he watched the young man said something cheerfully and the woman responded with a light laugh, answering whatever he had said just as cheerfully. Drew hesitated. He found himself sincerely curious. What made a couple smile like that at each other; holding and hands and acting as if they were the only ones in the world? Was it real and would it last? Was it just new love, was it the season, or was it something deeper? Did that kind of deeper even exist?

That was all he could take of the young couple, happy though their union seemed. He glanced around the room again; content to end his searching there. His gaze caught on the young man again. He was sitting on the side of the room that Drew had sat in for the last three days. He wondered how he had missed him. Then he realized that the man was sitting in the very spot he himself had chosen three times over. It was obvious why he had missed him. It was simple. He hadn't been there before.

He realized a bit about the system that the waitresses were using as Aleksi came to stand in front of the man's table, he smiled politely at her as she handed him her floor and pulled a ticket from her apron. They must have claimed or been given different sides of the room, and that was why Drew had been served by someone else today.

He continued to watch despite himself out of boredom. He was surprised when the man leaned forward a bit saying something with a smile. Aleksi paused, staring at him without much of an expression and searching his eyes, before looking at her ticket and going on as if nothing had happened. Drew didn't miss the slight startlement on his face before he adopted a regular expression again and seemed to reply to her question. She placed the note back in her pocket and turned to leave, stopping when he said something again. He was smiling. She frowned and turned only slightly, stated something with the same almost blank expression and left. The man stared after her for a moment, then lifted his coffee again and leaned back in his seat. He didn't drink it this time. He simply sat, looking contemplative.

Drew frowned. Something had changed. Maybe it wasn't major, but for some reason it seemed to be. A meeting of two people. And all because he had changed tables. Did he have that much power over what happened? If he did it wasn't new. He'd always had it, he had simply never noticed it. He shrugged silently to himself. What a stupid thought. The man could choose to do whatever he wanted, regardless of what table Drew chose to sit at. Then again . . . would he even have seen her otherwise? Did it matter?

The room was full of a variety of people, all with their own lives and stories. It was actually sort of interesting. He noticed another girl he had missed before. Auburn hair, green eyes, red pea coat and cream scarf. Most likely picked for the season, he thought. Still she had a small frown on her face, more of discouragement then sadness. He got the feeling from looking at her that she smiled a lot. She looked a little out of place where she sat.

Drew realized that he was acting quite a bit like May in one of her TV commercials. Hands both lifted to make an imaginary camera, she would interview him and turn the 'lens' to view everything around them, capturing their adventures on imaginary film.

She would do something like this. Sit beside him and ask him to join while she evaluated people they had never met and wondered what they were doing there and why. And even with the people frowning in annoyance, her reasoning would be happy.

He felt the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth after a moment and pushed it down. She was something . . . something different. That was for sure. It was a good different. But different none the less. It wasn't normal to be so positive, so happy on a daily basis. It was wonderful to be surrounded by all of the time. He was fully aware that it was one of the things that attracted him to wanting to be beside her, though he might not fully understand the implications of such desires.

"So, eggs and bacon."

He jumped quite a bit when she set the plate in front of him and looked up at her sheepishly to see if she had noticed. If she did she was tactful enough to ignore it, and stared back at him kindly. "Anything else I can get for you?" she asked cheerfully.

He hesitated. He was curious. In normal situations he would never ask. But would it even matter the next day? He gave into his curiosity. "Yeah actually. Do you know Aleksi?"

She blinked in surprise. "Aleksi Samson?"

Drew just stared. "Uh. Yeah, I think so. She works as a waitress here."

She nodded. "Yes, we know each other. Not very well though, I'm fairly new here. She's been around for a while."

"Yeah, I get that impression." He muttered more to himself than her.

She looked at him a little suspiciously. "May I ask why?"

"Well. . ." he threw caution to the wind. "What's with her attitude?"

She looked shocked that he would even ask. "What do you mean? She's nice?"

"I mean towards guys."

She looked confused. "I fail to see where you got the idea."

"I saw her a few minutes ago. There was a guy . . . I think he was attempting to come on to her. She made out like he hadn't said a thing."

She frowned. "I'm sorry, but this is her business. I'm a little uncomfortable discussing it with you."

He realized that he must seem like some sort of stalker. He just found himself a little curious. It wasn't as if he had anything better to do. And after three days of talking to her and her remembering none of it, he didn't see any problem in wondering. Especially not if he was going to be stuck seeing her every day and they weren't going to remember it the next day anyway. Still, he found her gaze unsettling and dropped it. She seemed to notice his dropped shoulders and find it less intimidating. She sighed. "Look, she's just been through a lot with her last boyfriend. He was a real jerk to her. I think she just wants to avoid a repeat."

He nodded. That made sense. Then she turned. "I've gotta go." She smiled towards his meal. "Let me know if you need anything else." And she walked back to the kitchen.

Drew smiled lightly. It was sort of a fun game. He ignored the part of him asking him why he should care and looked around the room again. A figure plopped down in the stall across from him and startled him from his musings. The figure was May. She was feeling a little awkward he could tell. She was probably still mad at him, if not a little hurt. It was a girl thing he supposed. Where there was anger he had done something hurtful to cause it. Throwing caution to the wind had been working pretty well so far. "Sorry," he stated. It was brief yet May still looked up in surprise and stared hard at him. He shifted under her scrutiny. "What?"

Her eyes were wide. "You said sorry." She stated.

Drew felt like sulking but managed to restrain himself. He nearly glared. "And?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, it's just. You don't usually apologize."

Drew felt a sudden knot in his throat. He wanted to say something, anything to break the sudden silence. But he found it hard to do so. Finally he just settled for looking back to his food and starting on his meal.

May held back a sigh and waited for the waitress to come by again.

As May ate her food Drew considered his situation. The days were ticking away. Day four of the same Christmas Eve he'd already experienced. What did he have to do to end it? Opening up obviously didn't get the job done, and he had thought that was the whole point. That was what the voice had pointed out, right? But apparently it wanted something else. What did it want? Was there anything he could do?

"Drew . . . It's Christmas Eve."

Drew sighed without realizing. "Yeah." Then suddenly it occurred to him. Maybe it was May? Something about her? She was the one who had made the wish. Was he supposed to do something else?

'_I wish for Drew . . . to find a reason to love Christmas."_

Was that what he had to do? Love Christmas? Find a reason?

It was simple enough. He wasn't sure how he felt about it. He felt strangely numb with the prospect. It was almost scary. What would he have to do to accept Christmas into his life? Except he didn't have accept the holiday, did he? He just needed to find something to love about it.

He looked up and caught May's wandering gaze. She looked uncomfortable. He already knew what she was going to ask. But he wondered, could he use it? "Would you-"

"-look at Christmas lights?" He finished in a whisper.

May stared at him in surprise, a strange sort of hope on her face. "Um . . . yes actually." Her brows furrowed. "But how did you-"

"Let's do it." Drew finished before she could ask questions, leaning over the table.

May continued with her surprised silence, and then a delighted smile split her face. "Really, Drew?"

Drew nodded. "We'll go wherever you want to go. Stay out all night if you like."

May couldn't have looked more overwhelmed by his words then if he had just come out and told her he loved her. Emotions passed over her face before to settle on being exited and smiled again. "Okay," she said a little breathlessly. "That's. . . okay." She seemed a little loss for words. Drew thought maybe he should have taken this choice of action days ago. If only to see that glowing smile.

Hours later, Drew and May pulled on their coats and headed out into the cold night. IT was a relatively small town, light poles lined the streets and little shops sat darkened after closing hours behind them.

There were small trees that had been trimmed so the branches were circular, small and covered in lights they ran along the street as well. May smiled brightly and turned to look at Drew over her shoulder. He froze and gulped and she laughed lightly, taking his hand and pulling him along with her.

He found himself distracted, unable to really relax and enjoy the moment. He dutifully followed her along, smiling at all the right times when she pointed out yet another house done in lights. To any person watching he would seem to be enjoying himself, and he was . . . just not that much.

He wasn't sure what the Wish Granter (that was what he had begun to refer to it as in his head) wanted him to do. Love Christmas? Wasn't that a bit of a stretch? And honestly, looking at the Christmas lights, he found it hard to see why he would enjoy Christmas at all. Why would anyone want to spend so much time looking at the same thing over and over again, neighbors competing with each other over something so meaningless? Was this what Christmas was about?

"Drew!" Drew winced as a snowball hit him full in the face. May giggled and laughed at his shocked face, snow sliding down his cheeks and nearing his collar. Quickly he shook it off and glared at her lightly.

"Funny, May."

May pouted as he shook the snow off and stood still again, staring at her calmly.

"What?"

If anything her pout only deepened, transforming into a slight grimace as she crossed her arms and turned away. "You were supposed to get me back."

Drew's mouth curled slightly at the idea. What was so fun about soaking each other in freezing snow that would melt and make them even colder, much like the water on his neck was now doing? He shivered at the thought and wrapped his arms around himself through his coat. "It's cold, May."

May blinked. "So?"

"So why would we put snow down our clothes?"

May's brow furrowed. "But it's not about that."

"So what then?"

May's mouth dropped open as she stared at his confused face. "It's about having fun! You would think you never had any! And most people do! You're always so quiet. You just smirk at everyone. Even when you win a contest, you still just stand there with that insufferable smirk on your face!" Her volume grew towards the end of her sentence till she was yelling, hands balling into fists at her sides, frustration etched all over her face. She stopped and softened her fists, expression softening only slightly. "It's the closest I ever come to seeing you smile. And I want you to smile. I-I want . . . I want you to be happy. I want you to enjoy the holiday, enjoy being with people."

There was an uncomfortable silence in which neither looked at each other, both staring down at the snow. Drew mumbled finally, "I enjoy things," shocking himself with his cowed tone.

May seemed to hesitate before speaking. "What things? Contests? You can't just throw all of your time and effort into activities."

Drew frowned, annoyed with her insinuation. His annoyance showed in his tone. "What's wrong with that exactly?"

"You need people!"

Drew scowled. "What people?"

"Family! You need friends, Drew! They don't just happen, you have to make them."

Drew held down the frown of disgust, biting his tongue so he wouldn't say something scathing. Finally he settled with , "and what if I don't want any other friends, what then May?"

May paused. Drew realized his slip up right before she moved on as if he hadn't said 'any _other,_' referring to her as his friend. "I happen to know for myself that winning a contest without friends means about as much as loosing with them."

"That's crap May, and you know it. There's plenty other that matters in contests. Winning isn't just about the clap on the back or the praise. It's about accomplishing your goals, it's about all your hard work paying off. What you did to get there." He glared, harsher than he wanted to look. "Only someone like you would think like that. Assume that it's all about how people receive it. It's not. It's about your Pokémon and all the effort that they put into it. Winning just shows the effort you put there to get it."

"Shows who?"

Drew's frustration grew. "Yourself!" His arms dropped from around him, fisting as hers were.

"What's the point? Effort matters, I get it. But what are you working for? So it shows how hard you worked. And? What's your point? Why are you trying so hard to get there?"

Drew actually paused. He had never wondered why he had worked so hard, pushed his Pokémon and himself to be absolutely perfect. He had just known that he could do it, that he had talent. He was one of the best, and that felt good-to be so well-known in the community for his talent.

"I used to wonder how you looked so confident. How you could stand up on a podium as a winner with that sneer on your face and accept a price that nobody would congratulate you on-"

Drew felt he _had_ to interject here. "Plenty of people congratulated me on it, May. They may not have been like your posse of friends, but their congratulations were there. That pat on the back you were talking about? I got it. But I didn't care; I didn't care because that wasn't the point!"

May's teeth ground together harshly. He was oblivious. Completely missing the point. How could he not get it? "I didn't do it for that either Drew! But that was what kept me going! It was the entire reason I could go on! I knew that people were cheering me on and waiting to see me accomplish what I had set out to do! That was the point! There were people who loved me and they were there. And just by being there and congratulating me they reminded me that I wasn't just doing this for me. I always knew that there were people looking up to me, that they supported me and wanted me to be happy, and _that_ was what kept me trying!"

She stopped, breathing heavily and glaring him in the eye now. This was so messed up. She wasn't sure if she was getting her point across or not. It was hard to think when he stared at her like that. Confused and angry and annoyed. It made her want to draw back. It made her feel . . . inept, not enough. Maybe that was why she needed people supporting her so much. Any cruelty had her questioning her own abilities, unfocused and scared. She needed people there to encourage her and believe in her.

Maybe . . . Maybe it was different for Drew somehow. He always seemed so full of himself. So self assured, like he didn't need or want help from anyone. But still, he was alone. There was no happiness in that. He had to miss it. He had to care at least a little. But he didn't seem to be getting it at all. How could he know so much about coordinating and be so clueless about this one little thing? Had really been alone so long that he had completely forgotten what it meant to have someone there that loved you? Sometimes the only reason she kept going was the remembrance of the people that wanted her to succeed. What kept him trying? Why was he the best at what he did? What inspired him?

Suddenly she was curious. "Why?" she asked sharply.

"Why what?"

"Why do you try?" Drew looked confused. "What makes you want to keep going? What inspires you to win?"

Drew's shoulders slumped a little. She was relieved when the hostility left his face. He stood in the snow with the lamps and Christmas lights illuminating his face and didn't say a thing.

"Why Drew?" she asked again. She wanted to know. She _needed_ to know. Drew had to know that she needed this. She needed him to open up to her. She had to have something, anything. And soon. She couldn't do it. Be so close to him so much, spend so much energy with just him and never get to know him. She needed him to care as much about her as she cared for his happiness. And right now, he really didn't seem to. He really didn't seem to want to open up to her at all. To want to grow closer. He didn't seem to care that this is what she needed from him.

And that hurt.

He continued to stare at her in frozen silence, his expression strangely distant and blank.

"Drew-"

Finally he muttered, almost as if shocked himself, "-I don't know."

And they both stood there, in the snow, cold wind blowing around them, ten feet between them, completely lost for words.

And just then the clock tower began to ring.

* * *

><p>Drew's eyes opened, warmth on his face once more as he stared into the familiar glowing pumes of fire in front of him. He could have sworn that he saw something of a pattern in the flames, a familiarity in all of the chaos.<p>

His chest tightened. He knew. He did know. He had to know why he worked so hard. It was for something important. More important than friends, more important than a pat on the back. It was there in the back of his mind, just barely out of his reach.

But what was it?

Groaning, Drew pulled himself from the covers and placed his feet on the carpet, warmed from the fires coals. He wasn't sure what to feel. Wasn't sure how much longer he could continue to do this. To place himself out there and have it mean nothing the next day. What else was he supposed to do? He had tried. He had done everything he could think of. He went somewhere with May to indulge her and focus on a holiday he hated. He hadn't wanted to do it, but he had _done_ it! Didn't that mean anything at all? Why was he still supposed to endure this? Could he do anything, or was he doomed to keep redoing it over and over again until his time was up?

Until his time was up . . . What did that mean anyway? Eleven days? Why did he have eleven days? And how many did he have now?

He looked up at the clock again and groaned.

'8:00'

"Ridiculous. Stupid clock." Suddenly his eyes narrowed. Eight o'clock. If every day was the same, why was that clock different each day? The day started the same didn't it? Then what was with the clock? Then a thought occurred to him. A stupid, insane thought. But then wasn't everything that was happening to him insane? He looked back up at the clock again and counted up the days that had passed. He had had twelve days when it started, and four days had passed.

"It's a countdown." He muttered. He took a moment to absorb this fact and then let out a quiet and bitter laugh. "Just great. Then this is going to end after all." A voice in the back of his head, the pessimist in him wondered, 'But what else happens when the time is up?' Drew firmly ignored this voice and stood from the couch.

That was it then. It was pointless to fight this, as had been proven twice now. It was completely pointless to try. He frowned. Why had it taken him so long to come to that conclusion? A lot came back to this. Why had he just assumed first off that this was different? It must have been his desperation to be done with it.

He nodded to himself and headed to the kitchen, completely ignoring May in the sill this morning. What did it matter? She would still be there tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day. What difference would it make? He grabbed a pretty basket of corn chips off the counter and pulled one out, giving it a taste. It was pretty bland, but alright. He shrugged to himself, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of grape soda and some salsa. Then he carried his finds into the living room like area and set them out on the coffee table. He then grabbed the remote off the table and turned on the TV, no care for the volume or anything else, and sat back to watch with bored eyes.

* * *

><p>May was woken with the sound of gunshots and shouting. She opened her eyes blearily and sat up, wincing slightly at the position she had been in all night. She rubbed her eyes sleepily and looked around in confusion for the source of the noise. She was shocked to see the TV, Drew's green mop of hair from over the couch proving him to be the perpetrator. It was pretty loud too. . . .<p>

May stood shakily and made her way curiously over to stand behind the couch. The man on the screen was holding a gun to the other, a country backdrop proving it to be one of the old western takes on entertainment. She looked at it in confusion and stared from it to Drew. If he noticed her there he made no note of it, though the movie didn't look any more exciting to him than it did to her. "Drew?" she asked after a moment.

He grunted. May's expression tightened in deeper befuddlement. "What are you doing?

Drew rolled his eyes and shifted further into the couches cushions, gesturing at the TV. "What does it look like? Watching TV."

That was one of the things that bothered Drew. Incomplete sentences. She wondered why he had used one.

There was silence for a few moments other than the sounds of gunshots and background music. Drew kept watching the screen and May watched him until she couldn't take it anymore.

"You don't watch TV," she stated finally.

Drew scowled. "What's so unusual about me watching TV?"

"You told me it was a waste of time."

"It is," he replied, leaning over to grab a chip out of the basket, examining it for a moment before taking a bite.

"And?"

Drew swallowed, making May nearly gasp when he rose his fingers to his mouth and licked them off, a completely un-Drew-like action. He glanced over at her with a slight smirk. That however, was typical. "_And,_ there's nothing I'd rather do right now than waste time."

May only stared blankly as he turned back to the screen and absorbed himself in the terrible movie again. "On Christmas Eve?"

Drew laughed, not a chuckle either, a full out laugh. It lacked the happiness one would expect of such an action, but it was an automatic response. "Why not?" he asked finally, holding his side as he worked to calm himself. "It's not like it ends here. There's plenty more to come right? What's so special about today anyway?"

May's brow furrowed. He couldn't place her emotion. It certainly wasn't happy but it wasn't as bad as the glare she had sent him the previous night either. He decided that it didn't matter what the expression meant. It would be forgotten the next day. He stopped watching her and looked to the movie again.

May seemed to deliberate about what to do, but then sat down softly on the cushion next to him. He rose an eyebrow at her. "Hey," he stated lamely.

May smiled lightly, "Hey," she said back. He nodded as if they had said something noteworthy, making her giggle a bit and turned back to the screen in front of them. A few more minutes of the movie was about all that she could take. "This is a terrible picture." She stated.

"So go do something."

May looked at him in surprise. "Aren't you coming?"

"Nope." He stated cheerfully.

"Why not? Don't you want breakfast?"

Drew's nose wrinkled for reasons May couldn't cipher. Again he said, "Nope."

"Well, um, what do you want to do?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Absolutely nothing."

May frowned. "That's not like you Drew."

He shrugged. "I don't much care what you think."

May looked at him in shock. "What?"

"Well, you're just going to forget it in the morning anyway. You'll wake up on that sill again, happy go lucky as always, and we'll go down and eat breakfast. Aleksi will serve us and give me waffles with no syrup and then we'll go on a date and you'll decide that it's a good time to interrogate me about something or other. After that it'll all go downhill. I'll yell, you'll cry, and the night will be over. We'll both be back here just like that. You sitting on the sill and me on the couch. Then we'll just wake up and do it all over again. Great isn't it? What a wonderful Christmas Eve." Drew stated sarcastically.

He looked at her and found her staring at him openly, eyes wide and shocked. "What?" he asked moodily.

May jumped, but still seemed lost for words. Finally she answered, "I don't . . . I have no idea what you're talking about. Are you . . . What happened?"

Drew breathed in quickly and snapped. "No, of course you don't. You won't tomorrow. Or the next day. Sorry, but I'm done. I don't care to explain myself so don't start asking."

May was stunned once more into silence as he fell deeper into the covers and stared at the screen again. Then in a voice he swore was trembling she muttered, "You're going to wake up one day and wonder why you're alone, Drew. And you won't know. This is why." May stood swiftly and left, almost running till she reached the bathroom.

Drew frowned, not bothering to watch her go. She was probably going to go cry. That really bothered him for some reason. But it shouldn't should it? She was going to forget it. With a sigh of discouragement Drew raised the remote and turned off the TV. He winced as the screen turned black again. He couldn't believe he had sat through so much of it. A muffled sound reached his ears and he winced. Yep, definitely crying. He shuffled uncomfortably and finally breathed out a sigh, raising from the couch and walking to the door. He hesitated and knocked on the door.

He heard a sniff, then May muttered, "Yeah?"

"Look I . . . " he stopped. What could he say? _I'm tired of repeating the same day?_ Was there anything he could say that would make any sense to her? "I'm sorry," he said finally. "I didn't mean to upset you."

There was a pause and then he jumped as the door opened, his hand still up to knock. May was blur and then suddenly was wrapping her arms around Drew's chest. He stiffened in shock. He had known long ago that May was very clingy. She hugged everybody, even him when she could. But usually she was very cautious of the way she did it. One arm over his shoulder for a picture or a quick hug goodnight. This was a full out hug, and she was definitely in tears, hiding her face in the front of his shirt.

He felt a brief moment of remorse, but it was stifled by the discomfort he felt. Awkwardly he stared down at her head. He was aware that she was using his chest more to hide her tears then cuddle; still, she didn't need to hug him to do that did she?

"Sorry," she said quietly, word muffled on his shirt. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry."

He sighed. It hadn't bothered him, and looking back at her words, he guessed it should have. He shook it off and sighed, wrapping his arms loosely back around her. "It's fine."

May nodded and chocked a bit trying to keep herself from crying.

Finally, awkwardly, May pulled back, staring at the floor. He was sure there was slight tinge of color on her cheeks. She changed a look at him and turned away quickly.

Drew decided that he should break the silence. "Why don't we . . . go downstairs for breakfast?"

May smiled a bit and nodded shakily. "I'll just get changed." She stood there for a moment and then backed away and quickly reentered the bathroom.

Drew sighed and looked at his wardrobe, finally deciding to change back into his usual outfit. It seemed like only minutes ago he had been changing into the same outfit. And now here he was, doing it again. It was aggravating.

"I'm ready." May announced quietly. Drew nodded and grabbed some money, taking off ahead of her

The day went as Drew had predicted. May looked at him suspiciously when he left the order up to Aleksi and she presented him with the meal he had said she would. He only shrugged at her expression and dug in, deciding not to care. It was good, that was all that mattered. All he really needed to do was live through the next eight days. He frowned to himself. That was a long time to be doing the same thing. He would have to find some way to entertain himself soon.

"May, I think I'm going to go somewhere tonight?"

"By yourself?"

"Yeah."

May frowned at him, dropping her attention to her plate. He didn't have to think very hard to wonder what her expression meant.

"Maybe . . . Maybe you could come with me." Wait. What? Why was he inviting her to come? The whole point was to get away? He sighed. Well, what was done was done. Where could they go that would keep her mind on other things? A movie. That was it. No one could talk during a movie.

"Do you wanna go see a movie?"

"I don't know if this little town even has a theater."

"It has to have a theater." He didn't bother to point out that if they didn't at one point, somebody would build one. There was just too much money to come of it.

"Really?" she asked quietly.

He found himself frowning. What was so strange about him inviting her for a movie? "Yeah. Of course."

She smiled. And like the tears, it was full blown.

A voice somewhere in the back of his mind stated that this _could_ be the reason he had asked her to go. He stubbornly ignored the voice.

Drew spent the rest of the day strangely quiet. May could've sworn he was moping but couldn't find a reason he would be doing so.

Drew seemed upset when they reached the theater, and May didn't have to wonder why. It was a small town, with a small theater. And only three movies were playing. All happy Christmas films. May found it a great opportunity to break him into such things while getting some Christmas joy in for herself. "Let's see that one." She stated before he could change his mind.

Drew looked at the movie, sighed and paid for the two of them. She wisely kept silent about his decision to do so, knowing that he was uncomfortable enough. She couldn't resist the thank you as he opened the door for the two of them. She knew he was smart enough to get the double meaning.

The movie was about what one would expect of a modern Christmas movie. A classic love story, two souls bonded by Christmas spirit. Drew sneered at the movie towards the end and May had to resist leaning over and smacking the expression away. But as they left May was smiling. She had had a wonderful Christmas experience with Drew, and regardless of how he was didn't seem to enjoy it like she did, he was obviously putting up with it for her.

It made her heart soar. She was completely aware that she was the only one in the entire world that Drew would do something he didn't enjoy for.

As they were walking back May said his name. Drew stiffened very noticeably and sped up his steps. May faltered in confusion and moved faster to keep up with him. "What's wrong."

"Nothing," he stated stubbornly.

May's eyes narrowed. "It's not nothing."

He sighed. "Please May, let's not do this. Let's just . . . have fun. Okay?"

She blinked in surprise and stopped walking, allowing Drew to go on without her a few paces before he realized that she was no longer beside him. He stopped and glanced over his shoulder at her, raising an eyebrow. "You coming?"

She shook her head and nodded, a bright smile filling her face as she jogged to catch up. When she reached him she took his hand, smiling brightly and only flushing a little bit, almost completely unnoticeable. It could have been from the cold.

Drew wondered what had happened. Every day before this she had been dead bent on discussing uncomfortable topics with him, but today she didn't seem to even think of it. What had changed?

He was thrown out of his musings when May giggled and turned upwards from him. "Drew look!"

Drew turned to stare up above them and sulked.

"It's snowing," she stated brightly.

He frowned. "Sure is." He realized what it meant quickly enough. It always began to snow a few minutes before midnight. It had made it easy to escape from her the first night and find his way alone to the clock tower. But together, it really wasn't that bad. It was only from a distance that it was hard to find someone.

"I love snow."

Drew turned to look at her incredulously. He was aware that there were a great many people that enjoyed snow, but he had always wondered why.

May noticed his gaze and cocked her head to the side curiously. "What?"

"Why"

"Why what?"

"Why do you love snow?"

She blinked and turned to look up at the snow above them again. "I don't know. I guess it's just pretty."

"Pretty?"

She nodded, smiling softly to herself. "It covers the entire world in white. For a few hours or sometimes days, the entire world is completely white. Clean and beautiful." She turned to look at him on cue as he shivered. "It's cold but . . . I don't know. I think there's something special to it. Doesn't it mean anything that snow only comes once a year during the Christmas season?"

Drew stopped to consider this. "It comes in January too."

May shrugged, smiling. "Well, it may be a little suspicious if it only came in the Christmas season right?"

Drew looked at her strangely. "You make it sound like someone plans it."

May looked down. "Yeah . . . I don't know it just . . . I love that that one time a year when everyone is so kind and things are so much peaceful that the world is also white. Clean and pure." She turned to look at him. "I think maybe it could mean something? Might be strange or different, but . . . I like to think so." She looked at him as if asking him not to ruin the image she had created for herself, a little uncomfortable.

Drew tuned back to look at the snow again. "Well, it's cold and wet. I don't see how someone can really find that enjoyable. But . . . I think I could see what you mean about everything being white. There's something to that. It may not be great to stand in all the time, but I think I might be able to see how it could be beautiful.

May smiled, thankfully at him and turned back to the snow. "It's magical," she whispered.

Drew almost laughed, but then the ringing of the bells caught his attention. His laugh died in his throat. For the first time since the repeats had started, he didn't want it the night to end. He wanted to enjoy this moment. Just a little bit longer.

He squeezed May's hand tightly in his and she turned to him in surprise. He wasn't sure what he saw in her eyes, but whatever it was, he wanted more of it. More of her.

"May . . ."

She still stared back blankly and then gulped subconsciously. She turned back to the street before them and laughed awkwardly.

Drew smiled, feeling closer to a real laugh then his bitter laughter from the morning had been. Then he turned to watch the snow with her as it coated the entire town in soft white.

Standing there with her under a pale blue sky, the street lamps illuminating the top of her hair and face in a beautiful soft glow, cold but somehow oh so peaceful - he thought maybe he understood a little bit of what she felt about the snow falling around them.

* * *

><p><strong>AN Ugh. It was so hard for me to write this. I don't know what's wrong with me but this was so hard. I think part of it was that I lost my mp3 player. That may sound stupid to some of you, but I can almost not write at all without music. I finally found it, and it came much more smoothly after that. And then my earphones broke. *sulk* Anyway, my point is, it's a little difficult right now so I hope I still lived up to expectations considering it to so long for me to get it posted. I'm sorry about that.**

**Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!**

**UPDATE:**

****I think it's important to note that I used almost all of the OC's I have thus far. Most will be making more appearances but it'll mostly be small scenes such as these.****

**lulu halulu** **submitted the profile for the waitress. I'm sorry that I forgot to add her name! Hopefully that's OK. I know that she was a little rough with Drew and she supposed to be happy, but I think a girl with a good attitude would probably have a good head about her right?  
><strong>

****EVAN AAML** submitted the OC for the man talking to Aleksi. :D**

**Jane Hawthorn** **submitted the OC with auburn hair that's sitting at the table seeming frustrated.**

**Monochrome13 submitted the OC with black curly hair sifting through the photographs**

**Fprmr1 submitted the profiles for the couple sitting at the table.**

**Thank you guys so much for all of your great OC's! They will be small scenes such as these but they definately help. I'm not the classic OC user and I apologize for this. I may not make them all cheery like some of you want, and I'm sorry if I don't do them justice. Really I am. But for this story, it's best if I keep it real. :) Hope you understand. And thanks so much to all of you for your OC's!  
><strong>


	6. Days 6 & 7

**A/N So here I am, sitting here at 4:59 in the morning, eating oatmeal and typing this just for you people. I am exhausted, so I hope this comes across alright. I'm pretty out of it. :}**

**Update: Just finished and it's 10:57 P.M. My life is way too busy right now, but I still felt the need to update this story today. I hope it finds you all well.**

**Thank you to all you awesome reviewers. You're giving me all the support I really needed to continue writing this fanfiction. Thank you so much. Please continue to do so! I really appreciate it!**

**You all rock! I found this chapter sooo hard to write. And as I've stated, it's nearing midnight. I did work hard on it though for you all. Hopefully it shows. :}**

**Merry Christmas everyone!  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Drew woke up the next day with a strange sense of foreboding. It seemed that nothing was going to come of any action he took. The night before had gone surprisingly well. He was even sad it was over.<p>

It hit him harder than he thought it would that he was still feeling the moment and May would never remember it.

Whereas the site of the fire had filled him with frustration on all mornings before, today it was calming. Inviting. He looked at the clock and sighed mentally. _'__Definitely__a__countdown.__' _

He let out a breath and snuggled deeper into the covers, opening his eyes to stare at the fire again.

'_So__what__now?__'_ he asked himself.

It was the same thing every morning. He didn't know what to do. What to think. It was getting mentally exhausting.

Finally he decided what to do.

Today would be a test.

The only annoying thing was not knowing for sure if he was getting up at the exact time that he had the first Christmas Eve. He assumed he was. He probably was waking up at exactly the same time every day. He would just have to count on that.

Pulling out of bed he restrained from folding his blankets and walked over to where he knew May would be, sitting in the sill. He stared at her. It had only been moments ago that they had stood under the street lamps in the snow, Christmas lights somehow beautiful around them when Drew usually thought nothing of Christmas lights. And now here she was, sitting on the sill with no memory at all of the previous night. Drew shrugged and placed his arms beneath her legs and behind her back. It wasn't as if anything remarkable had happened. In fact, it had been incredibly ordinary.

He continued to tell himself this as he carried her over to her bed and deposited her on the sheets. The covers were already thrown back, like the previous nights. He pulled them over her and continued to stare blankly at her despite himself.

It didn't matter, he told himself. It didn't matter.

He found himself leaning unconsciously and stood back up quickly. What had he been doing? Shaking it off he turned around swiftly and marched back over to the couch, grabbing his clothes and hurrying to the bathroom to change.

He was going to do a little test. His plan was to do everything exactly like he had on the first Christmas Eve. He was curious. Would it all turn out exactly the same? If he was honest with himself, he would say that he really wasn't sure why he was doing it. But didn't feel up to thinking about the _why__'__s_ right now.

He still found himself entertained when May woke up with that dazed, still-half-asleep look on her face. He made sure to say and do everything exactly the same. So far so good. It all seemed the same.

Heading down to the kitchen he took the place he usually did, the more reserved spot, and waited for Aleksi to come and serve him. He had to stop himself from making a specific order, knowing what she was going to serve him. But he dutifully left it up to her.

As the day went by exactly as the first had, Drew found little things that he hadn't noticed before almost coming to him. He had been so focused on his own thoughts the first Christmas Eve that he had missed so many little things. How had he not noticed the concerned look May had given him right before he had come downstairs? How had he not noticed the look of fatigue hiding behind Aleksi's expression? There were so many little things that he was catching so easily now that he didn't have to think about himself before his responses. Why did that seem so important?

Glancing around the room, Drew took note of all of the people that he had seen the day before. People he hadn't noticed twice before now. He consciously stared at the man that had been sitting where he was the day before. He was being served by the blond waitress Drew had met, having had to choose a seat on the opposite side of the dining room considering Drew had taken his usual spot. Drew frowned. The man didn't act the same way towards the blond waitress. His thoughts from the day before came back to haunt him. Thoughts of how easy it was to affect others' lives. Did it honestly matter what seat he took? And how could he have known if it _did_ if time had never stopped for him?

Shaking it off, he turned back to May as she began speaking.

"So . . . it's Christmas Eve."

* * *

><p>Drew did everything the same, almost in a dreamlike state. Nothing seemed to matter. This 'test' gave him a useless sense of doing something with the curse. Seeing if things really would go exactly the same if you put two days together.<p>

The slight argument was the most difficult part. He sincerely considered throwing his plan out of the window when he noticed how concerned May looked. This time he could really take it in. His responses were automatic, repeating everything he had said the first night. He supposed the only reason he went through with it was because it had become so automatic all day. It was still hard when she looked at him with frustration, a thin lining of tears that he had completely missed the first day along her eyes. He felt an overwhelming need to just reach over and hug her, wipe the expression off of her face and tell her he was sorry. He didn't remember why it was so terrible to talk to her now. As he listened to his voice robotically tell her no, he winced. Why didn't he want to tell her these things again? She cared. Why did it matter?

The question had completely changed its meaning.

Soon he was lying in bed again, staring at the fireplace, the clock above his head broadcasting '6:00' to all the world. Except there was just him, and that number was only for him.

He didn't feel like doing anything this time. It was just so mentally exhausting. Why was this happening? What had he done to deserve it? Right . . . May . . .

He groaned and rolled over, staring at the ceiling. 'So . . . what this time Drew?'

He had no idea how to answer that question. He just wanted it to be over. This seemed so completely pointless. What good could it possibly do? May wasn't even aware that it was happening and it was her wish! Granted it required his effort more than it did hers . . . . It was so frustrating.

His thoughts went back to where they had been minutes, no hours (he reminded himself) ago. Why did he care if she knew? And then his brow furrowed and he scowled at himself. Of course he had reasons, and they were perfectly logical. Why had he had such a hard time with it when she was looking at him? He sat up and turned around, looking at the sill. May was there. May was always there.

May . . .

Suddenly he got a wicked idea. A wonderful, wicked idea. She didn't remember things the next day anyway, so what was the point in trying so hard?

A moment later he wrote it off. He really wanted to bug her. He didn't get to annoy her anymore. Not like before. And if she wouldn't remember anyway, it might be fun to drive her crazy. But still . . . He couldn't find it in himself to do it.

He growled at himself. Well, that was annoying. Now he was missing the vital part of his personality that drove May nuts. That was the only fun part of his life.

This sucked.

Sulking, he lay back down and rolled over, pulling the covers over his head and ignoring just how childish he was sure he looked. It wasn't like anyone could see him, and if they did they would just forget it anyway . . .

"Not helping," he grumbled to himself. Then on a happier note he thought, it'll all be over soon. He pulled the blankets down just enough so he could see the clock, then pulled them up again. Just five days. _'__But__what__happens__when__the__time__is__up?__'_

"Nothing! Nothing happens! I'll just be over, that's all!" He growled again at the annoying voice inside his head.

He threw off the blankets finally, sitting up in a flurry of movement and running a hand through his hair.

He had to do something. He had to try. It didn't matter if he couldn't do it. This wasn't doing anything for him at all. What if something did happen? Could he really take that chance?

With this new mindset he nodded resolutely to himself. He knew that he still had resistance somewhere in the back of his mind, but he could still try.

Leaning back on the couch he considered his options.

The only things that really stood out in his mind from his conversation in the dream were that – One: He needed to be able to talk about himself and Two: He needed to find a reason . . . to love . . . Christmas.

He mentally slapped himself in the face. How had he forgotten? It just hadn't seemed to matter. Thinking every day wiped away the effort that he had put into it anyway. But no, he hadn't found one single reason to enjoy the dull holiday, let alone _love_. . . .

Could he really do both?

_He needed to be able to talk about himself . . . . _

His vision went out of focus as he fell into memories, memories that he hadn't allowed himself to even think about in years. In his mind he heard glass breaking, a woman screaming and a man yelling. And then there was him, curled up on the floor with his hands over his ears as he sung the sounds away as she had taught him to.

He didn't have to think about if he was able to relive the memories, they just came. A constant barrage of memory after memory. The woman crying and the man yelling. Finally ending with the front door slamming shut, its finality echoing throughout the house like a curse.

His Christmas curse.

That wasn't when he had started hating Christmas. He had hated it the moment he had walked home and opened the door and found his mother on the floor with his father glaring at him, Christmas bin sitting innocently behind them.

Drew had stared at them for a moment, then slowly turned and walked up the stairs to his bedroom. He had hated himself for that choice for a long time. It didn't matter that he had been just a small child of four or five. The mind held no numbers to represent itself, only memories. You never aged in your mind.

As a young child he had come to associate Christmas with hateful words and tearful yelling. It was always worse then normal, regardless of how regular the actions were on other days. He had _always_ hated Christmas.

And asking him to come to love it now was a curse, not a blessing. Not positive in any way. He didn't _want_ to think about it. He didn't want to enjoy Christmas. Why was that so hard to understand?

Sighing, Drew dropped his head a looked at the carpet under his feet. May had wished it. That was reason enough to try. Whereas it hadn't mattered before, he now felt it was the only reason to try.

He jolted suddenly as May's words from three days prior popped into his head.

_'. . . There were people who loved me and they were there. . . . they reminded me that I wasn't just doing this for me. I always knew that there were people looking up to me, that they supported me and wanted me to be happy, and that was what kept me trying!'_

Was that what she had meant?

He turned his attention quickly back to matter at hand, not feeling up to thinking about that quite yet.

So why love Christmas? What was so great about it anyway? He knew the thought sounded childish, but he really couldn't bring himself to care. He really wanted to know. It had never been a positive experience for him. What made it good for other people?

He thought of May. Why was it so wonderful to her? What made her light up the way she did at the mention of Christmas? He had no idea. Standing and stretching, he turned and headed for the sill. Well, he would just have to ask her.

"May." He shook her. "May!"

May jumped and fell off the sill. He blinked in surprise and winced guiltily. He should have remembered that reaction.

"Ow." May stared up at him blankly, rubbing her head.

"Heh. Sorry about that."

May blinked. "That's . . . It's fine." She shook her head and stood, rubbing her eyes. "What is it?"

"Well, um . . . "

May looked at him in concern at his hesitation, suddenly alert. "Did something happen?"

"No. I, um . . ." he hesitated again. Why was this so difficult? She wasn't going to remember it darn it! But she was still there, and the conversation felt completely real. It was hard to remind himself. But he had to, didn't he? He pushed harder. "I actually . . . I wanted to ask you about Christmas." He carefully avoided her gaze as he made this statement.

May's mouth fell open. She observed him avoiding her and smiled, still a little bewildered but ever hopeful. "Yeah sure. Why don't we sit next to the fire?" She moved before he could answer, knowing that it would be awkward for him to have to, and he followed dutifully, relieved that she wasn't making a big deal out of it.

May sat down in one of the chairs while Drew moved his blankets over and sat at the end of the couch closest the chair. It was a little awkward, but he pushed forward before he could loose his desire. "Why do you enjoy Christmas?"

"That's a hard question. I just like the season. Everybody joins in to make it something special. People are more forgiving this time of year and people who have never met each other say, 'Merry Christmas.' It's the one time of the year when people get along with each other without even trying, for no other reason then the fact that it's the Christmas season. I love that." She smiled and looked at him, blinking blankly when she found him staring back at her doubtfully. "What do you think?" She asked calmly.

Drew paused. "I don't know. It just . . ." He looked into the fire, his expression one of remembrance. "In my experience it brings out the worst in people instead."

May jolted. "What?" She asked in shock.

Drew didn't seem to notice her harsh response; his intense focus was on something just out of her reach, not really in the room or with them at all. He hesitated before he went on. "People get desperate this time of year. They stress about their kids getting gifts and worry about whether theirs will match up to someone else's'. They spend Christmas Eve cooking and not enjoying anything at all. And then when Christmas finally comes their worn out. They're worn out and their kids couldn't care less about their gifts or all the effort it took to put it all together. And the kids that do care . . . those are usually the ones that don't get a Christmas as measured up to everyone around them. And they only appreciate it because they don't have it. Not everyone can do Christmas the way people seem to assume it would be easy to do, and for those people, a generous part of the population, it's just . . . hell."

May sat very still as she listened to what he had to say. His lack of interest in Christmas went deeper than she could understand. She was horrified by the revelation on his view on Christmas, and even more disturbed by the fact that she could understand most of it. That most of it made _sense_. This seemed to go deeper than experience, but still she had to ask . . .

"Is that . . . what happened in your family?"

Drew jolted out of his musings with the question. She didn't miss the way his hands shook as he nonchalantly shrugged, as if it weren't a big deal. "Yeah I guess."

There was silence for several minutes. She couldn't believe that Drew had opened up to her like that, and was even more thrown by the fact that it had seemed almost natural for him to do so. He really didn't seem to have to be forcing himself through most of it. Though what had made him bring it up she had to wonder. Her wish from the night before came to her mind. It was almost like she was being granted just a bit of that. Drew definitely didn't like Christmas, but he was talking about it with her and opening up to her about it, and that in itself was a grand leap for him. One she hadn't seemed him take in a long time.

She would ignore what she could to keep him from feeling too awkward, but she thought that his words needed addressing in some shape or form. He had a terrible view of Christmas. It was realistic, some might say. But it held no happiness for him and May couldn't stand it. She sat silently and thought for a moment, then finally she said, "I think you're thinking about it too literally."

She was surprised at the look of gentle and sincere curiosity in his gaze. "What do you mean?" He asked quietly. It was no more than a whisper and she almost had to strain to hear him. She shivered but tried to focus on the task she had set for herself.

"I mean, if you think about it, your points are valid concerns, but most of them are based on very temporal things." When Drew continued to stare at her blankly she sighed and tried to explain it a little clearer.

"I mean, think about it in comparison. You said that parents stress about their kids getting Christmas Presents. You're right; they do, because they love them. And then you said that the kids can't appreciate the effort they put into it anyway. That's true too. There's no way that they can appreciate it, they're children and they've never had that kind of responsibility before. But they do love their parents, and someday they're going to grow up and they're going to have kids too and _then_ they'll understand it. Could you imagine how they would feel if they grew up and got to the point where they could appreciate it, and then looked back with the realization that their parents never tried? Most of the things that people do for you because they love you just can't be appreciated. But later, when it all comes into focus, it matters. It makes all the difference in the world."

Drew hadn't noticed that he wasn't breathing. He _couldn__'__t._ His throat had closed up on him. May noticed that he was sitting very still. His face showed no emotion but May could feel that something was happening inside of him.

"And about the kids that never have a good Christmas," she continued softly. "I think you're right about the way they appreciate Christmas, but . . . I don't think that they can fully appreciate it either. How can you love something you've never had?"

Drew still hadn't moved. Slowly with her last words he turned to look at her and looked intently into each of her eyes. He was blown away. He wanted to say something to portray just what her words meant to him but he couldn't. There was nothing that would explain the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts her words caused. He wondered about her. Did she know more than she seemed too? The words she had ended with had been for him, just him. He clung to that idea desperately.

"_**. . . find a reason to love Christmas."**_

He swallowed the panic that came with those words, the idea of forcing himself to try so hard all over again. But her words rang through his head firm and true.

"_How can you love something you've never had?"_

She was right. How could he love Christmas when he had never allowed himself to experience it? Was that it? The piece that he had been missing?

But what was _it_ exactly?

He frowned, brought down from his elation with a familiar tug of despair. What could he possibly do differently? What was he missing about Christmas? What was it?

He opened his mouth to ask something along these lines and found it blocked with emotion. Working hard to clear his throat, swallowing, he went on. "What is it?"

"What is what?" She asked, not unkindly.

"What is it that makes it Christmas then? I mean, obviously my view was . . . less than correct to you. So then, what makes it Christmas to you?" His unknown question stood boldly before him. 'What do I need to do?'

"It's effort."

Drew blinked. "Effort," he repeated, as if trying the word on his lips for the first time.

She nodded patiently. "I don't think that you were all incorrect. I think that Christmas is what you make of it. It's all about how much effort you put into it."

Drew pulled back and frowned. If Christmas was all about what he made of it, how was he supposed to have a clear view of what to do?

He suddenly realized what he was doing. May was making a lot of sense, but he was turning this conversation into some sappy Christmas card. With the strange thought the discomfort came back. He shook his head. "Sorry."

May looked confused and a little concerned. "Sorry about what?"

"My questions. I just . . . " he sighed and leaned backwards. "This is ridiculous."

May looked to the fire, her expression contemplative. Drew watched her think before she turned back to him, "Isn't there anything you enjoy about Christmas, Drew?"

He paused. Usually he wouldn't have to consider this question; he knew the answer to it and that answer was an obvious, 'no.' But now he needed something. He wondered if there was something already there. Undiscovered. He remembered the last few days with May. Most had been stressful, but the previous nigh especially, that had been alright. What was it that had made it alright? Was it Christmas related? Then he brushed off the question. The moment hadn't been enough to make up for his lack of loving Christmas.

"No." he stated quietly.

May watched him with a thoughtful yet calm expression for some moments, then she smiled shakily. "Well Drew, I hope-I hope you can find something, someday. I would like to see you smile, excited for Christmas. . . . Someday."

Drew only stared blankly back and said nothing.

Later, when they went down to lunch together, having skipped out on breakfast during their discussion, Drew decided to change his seating arrangements again. He led a surprised May to a table surrounded by people and sat down right in the middle. She just stared at him. '

Drew looked up at her and started to scowl despite the more lade back way that the day was going. "Are you going to sit down?"

May's pouted at his tone and she sat down across from him crossing her arms in front of her. She suddenly realized that he was looking across the room at something instead of just at her, and turned around to see where he was looking.

Her eyes were drawn to a man in that direction; he was sitting alone drinking his coffee. When the waitress showed up he brightened obviously but calmly smiling warmly at her. May recognized her after a moment as the girl from the night before and turned back to Drew, curious about his gaze on the two.

Drew had a look of silent contemplation on his face. They had missed breakfast, so if he was correct, that would mean that the two would have met that morning then while he hadn't been there to disrupt their meeting. Again he watched as the man stated something, smiling, but much more laid back from the day before. And again he watched as Aleksi stopped moving and simply stared at him, as if searching for a reason for his actions. He frowned. Why was it so hard to see that a man was interested her. Or maybe she did see it and just didn't want too? The familiarity to the action was startling.

Aleksi nodded to him, and walked away, but Drew was sure that he had seen a small smile on her face that time.

"Earth to Drew."

Drew blinked and turned back to look at May in surprise. "What?"

She raised an eyebrow in amusement. "What were you doing, looking at them like that?"

"I don't . . . I don't know." Drew had to seriously consider the question. Why was he so interested in the two of them? He came to the conclusion that he was curious. The man was hitting on Aleksi and she didn't seem up to or ready to accept the invitation. They seemed to be a little bit closer than his memory of their first meeting, the meeting that had presumably happened the same way this morning as it had before. He still had to wonder about the way his actions had affected this. He was the reason that they hadn't met in the first place. And if they did hit it off, if something major came of their meeting, Drew wasn't sure if he liked or disliked the implications of that idea.

This time, when May asked him if he wanted to do anything with her, he took her up on it immediately, before he had realized how automatic his response had been. He wasn't sure what to think of it, but he thought he was starting to enjoy their nights together. It still drove him nuts at the thought of May not remembering any of them, but he was still, though loath to admit, suddenly drawn to the idea of spending Christmas Eve with her. He wanted to find a reason, he realized in surprise. Today he felt ready, ready to hope, ready to try.

And May had instilled that in him.

It was surprising just how well looking at Christmas lights went this time. May didn't question him at all, he assumed it had to do with the fact that they'd discussed Christmas so openly earlier in the day. She had no questions. Somehow she had what she had needed. He considered asking her what that thing had been, but it was so relaxing as opposed to the other nights, that Drew couldn't bring himself to ask. Instead he followed May, stifling smiles at her excitement as she led him from house to house and then down the streets of the dead little town.

It was several hours later as he was climbing back onto the couch again that it really hit him how today had gone much more smoothly that the times before it. They hadn't fought. Hadn't argued at all. And it had all been natural, felt good. He had enjoyed himself, surprised though he was. And his only disturbing thought, was the fear of whether it would continue onto tomorrow. He needed to find a reason. And it needed to be strong. Could he do that, find it and try so hard and keep this peace?

He really hoped so.

* * *

><p><strong>AN I almost forgot. Thank you so much Shizuku Tsukishima749! You made it a lot easier to just go through and fix what I had missed (I haven't actually yet, but I'm planning on it tomorrow. I actually knew all that you stated (though I do mix 'to' and 'too' quite often :P), but with the constant updating and the Christmas season, ****There were some definite typos that I'm relieve you pointed out. I shall be sure to fix them promptly. ****I don't even have time to reply to all my reviewers (sadness), let alone double check my grammer, er. . . grammar. :P My spell check tends to change things automatically when I accidentally miss a letter, things like that. So I do know, but I just type as fast as I can and I miss my mess-ups. :( Luckily, I think I have someone who's going to help me with that ( ;) You know who you are), so it shouldn't be quite so painful to read after she gets through editing it. Though honestly, thank you. I really do appreciate the help. Now I can just go through and fix it quickly! I do have a couple of grammar related questions. Do you mind if I ask you some of them? You seem to know some things that I am a bit confused on. :D And thank you so much for the review! It was wonderful!  
><strong>

**P.S. Same to everybody who has reviewed up until now. It means the world to me and if I had the time, I would be sending each and every one of you personal replies for every chapter. I'm not doing it for anyone at all right now because I simply do not have the time. It's taking all of my effort to update at all. I will however, be going through and replying to all of you once the story is all finished. Thank you everyone! XD Please continue! It's what pushed me to try to update today. You guys are awesome! :D Apologies if I'm laying it on too thick, but this is really how I feel, so thank you. :)**

****P.P.S. I know I have replys to send to some of you about OC's and other such things. :D Please know that I have not forgotten you! I shall reply the moment I can. :D I will try to fit in more OC's if I can. We'll see. For now, if you're reading this and you've already asked me to add an OC, please just message me with an OC in mind for you. If I can at all fit it in without distracting from the story, then I will certainly do so. :D****

****Sorry for the long authors note everyone! I have no filter this late at night. Thanks for reading!****

****~ PG17  
><strong>**


	7. Days 8 to 11

**A/N Had to submit this today. This is a Christmas story after all and I am not going over Christmas on submitting it. :D I hope you all enjoy it. I did go quickly but I did the best that I could under my time crunch. I also shed a bit of light on Drew's past in this one. :)**

**Merry Christmas! :D**

* * *

><p>The next day Drew was up quickly. He didn't pause to think, didn't sit and try to decide what to do. He had already decided.<p>

Today would be the day.

He would find a reason. What that was, he wasn't sure yet. But he was going to try. And if he didn't find it today, then he would at least have a start, and tomorrow he would be one step closer. It was going to happen.

He could hardly remember the last time he had felt so optimistic.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he frowned at his positivity, berating himself for being so careless. He couldn't deny that he was still pulling back at the idea. He didn't even know if this would end the repeating days. Chances were, he would have to continue this to the end anyway. Still, his suddenly positive side loudly protested, stating plainly the pointlessness of fighting it and simply enduring the next few days. No, he was going to find a way to love it.

. . . Hopefully.

Drew dressed quickly and woke May. He had barely waited for her to change before he was grabbing her hand and practically dragging her down to breakfast. May didn't comment that he chose to sit around so many people when he usually sat at more reserved locations, and Drew didn't even think of it. It was just right, he had decided. He wanted to see what came of this action, what little things he might affect.

May blinked at him all through breakfast. He seemed eager, ready to go do something. But what she wasn't sure.

"You're in a strange mood," she stated finally.

Drew blinked at her, then smiled. "Yeah."

May could only stare at the smile. Not a smirk, a smile. What had happened between the day before and today that had changed his attitude so much?

"May, I want to go something. Something Christmas related."

May very nearly fell out of her chair. She still could do little more than stare at him in shock. "You . . . You want to do something . . . (here she paused as if to really make sure that he knew what he had just stated) _Christmas_ related?"

Drew nodded, the corner of his mouth pulling in slight annoyance at her astonishment. Why was this such a big deal?

"Okay," she said softly. Her face brightened and smiled. "Okay."

Drew smiled back, glad that the moment had passed and returned to his meal. Maybe if he just did what she did . . . he would find something. He tried to quell the feeling of dread that rose in the pit of his stomach. He had to have a good attitude, he had to do more than endure it or he knew that he wouldn't be in the right mind to find or notice anything. He could do this. He had to do this.

May's idea was that they look at Christmas lights. He wondered why he had been expecting something different. He considered suggesting they do something else, as they had already done this same thing before. But then he reminded himself of his goal and chose to just go along with it. It wouldn't be worth fighting her on it. And besides, what else could he suggest of Christmas relation?

Drew knew that he was closer to discovering what he was after as they went out that night. He was still not completely enjoying himself, but he was trying. And he had spent the entire day wracking his mind, watching May and the people around them and trying to come up with a reason to love Christmas. So far all of his reasons were mediocre at best. _'There's good music?'_ But he really didn't care for Christmas music. _'Lot's of shopping? The chance to buy things for people?_' He really didn't have anyone to shop for and this was a reason for him. _'Decorations?'_ He had never really cared for decorations. He didn't hate them, they just didn't really do anything for him.

He was completely lost and a little discouraged. It was harder than he thought to keep up a positive mindset all day long, and he really wasn't sure what to do. So he just tried to keep himself thinking and looking. Despite the annoyance of his lack of ideas, Drew found himself enjoying his time with May more than he had before. May pointed out Christmas lights once more. At first he just smiled and nodded, as he had in the past. But then he remembered what he was doing and he actually looked at what she would point out, trying to see what she saw in it. He couldn't deny they looked good, but he lacked a response. Nothing happened when he looked at them, they brought him no joy. He soon became tired of trying. Did he need to make himself love Christmas traditions? Did he even want too? Then he looked at May again, smiling and laughing in delight as he shared the holiday with her for once, and he decided that he **did** want _something_.

The day ended as the last had begun. He wasn't sure if he had made progress or not. Did he need to change his search? Was there really something about Christmas that he could come to love?

The next morning, the clock was broadcasting '4:00', he woke with a startling revelation. He still hadn't talked about himself. He had, but he hadn't. Not really. That was one of the only things that the voice had pointed out. Was that what he needed to do?

Was he ready to do it?

He answered himself with an obvious 'no.' He knew he wasn't ready. He wouldn't know where to start, and he had no idea what he would say or how she would react. He didn't know how to act, or if he could even do it. The acceptance of this knowledge was painful. He lied in bed for a long time considering the option, before deciding what this day would be focused on.

He wasn't sure that he wanted to do it. It seemed rather pointless, but still . . . .

He got up and went downstairs. He went to the front desk, the same secretary he had seen his first day there acknowledged his presence with a distracted nod. He asked her for a phone and she looked at him with doubt. "I'm not sure if the phone lines are still up," she stated. "We were close to loosing them yesterday." Drew sighed, remembering faintly the news Aleksi had given him when she first got there. In the back of his mind he felt relief. He wondered how he had forgotten about the phone lines.

"Drew!" Drew jumped and turned around, smiling on a bit as May caught up to him. "I was looking for you? What are you doing?"

He paused. "Just paying for our rooms."

"Ok."

Of course then Drew had to explain to the secretary how they had gotten into their rooms at all without paying, to which she recounted the story of that particular hotel room to him again, and to May the first time.

As they left the desk for breakfast, May held a contemplative look on her face. Drew stared steadily at her expression before finally asking her what was wrong.

"I was just thinking about what that woman said."

"About the room?"

"Yeah . . . "

Drew thought about his dream. A white room without doors or windows. He had wondered faintly, but now he thought clearly. Had the voice come from person at all?

"Do you think that sort of thing can really happen?" May asked.

"I . . . yeah. I think it does."

May looked surprised. "Wow. You're the last person I thought would believe in that sort of thing."

Drew sighed. Then he ran over her words again. 'Believe.' That word struck something deeply. He felt as if there were something inside of him pushing to take that word and do something with it. What he wasn't sure. He tried to shake it off and couldn't. When May spoke up he was finally able to bring himself out of it.

"But I think it's kind of sad."

"What is?"

"She said that people end up leaving angrily the next day. That there wishes weren't answered. According to that it seems like there is nothing to that room. But then, they're leaving the next day. You'd think that they would wait a little longer to see if their wishes would come true."

Drew thought he had figured it out. To May, this was the next day. To him, it was his eighth. If there situations were like his, then they had been staying in the hotel room far longer than one night. But still . . . they all left upset. That was troubling. Did anything good ever come from this? Or was it as May said and they simply weren't getting their wishes answered?

Drew found himself caught up in these thoughts for next few hours, the positivity had dwindled a little bit with these ideas. _Everyone_ left upset? So did these wishes ever get answered? Did he want it to get answered? Was it really worth all of the effort he was putting into it?

He silently put away the idea that he had had. It was crazy. Under the less optimistic mindset, it really didn't seem like the greatest idea. It had been years since he had called the man. What had he been thinking? These thoughts led to others, and soon he was again sucked into memories, overwhelmed and not feeling ready to act.

He was still in this mindset some hours later back in their hotel room. May spoke up in a quiet tone. "Are you doing alright?"

Drew jumped. He had again been staring at the fire, absorbed in his thoughts. The action only worried May more. Drew was usually very in control of his emotions. And usually he was annoying and told her what he thought when he thought it with no tact as to _how_ he went about it. He was quiet otherwise. He just spent a lot of time alone. But still, this was too quiet, and he hadn't yet said one tactlessly rude comment.

He looked up at her then back to the fire. "Fine," he said shortly.

May's brow came together. She said beside him and sat there quietly, just watching him. When he said nothing after several moments she asked, "something bothering you?"

Drew's lips pursed. For the first time he thought of just telling her exactly what was going on. But that would be pointless wouldn't it? He looked up at the clock.

'4:00'

"Yeah, May. I'm fine," he said quietly.

"You're not acting fine."

Drew resisted snapping. "I said I'm fine." This still apparently, wasn't the right thing to say. May frowned.

"But you-"

He groaned. "Enough May! I said I don't want to talk about it. Just leave it."

May's frown stayed, but now another emotion was present on her face. She opened her mouth as if to say something then shut it, thinking better of it. "I'm sorry."

Drew shrugged off her apology and continued to look into the fire.

May stayed quiet for a while, a thoughtful look on her face, then said, "But am I worried about you."

Drew groaned again, bowing his head into his arms. "May, please."

"I just . . . I worry about you. And you've been so quiet today. Is it . . . Is it the holiday?"

Drew looked up suddenly. Of course she would think that. To her it was Christmas Eve for the first time, and as she had revealed a few days ago, she knew that the holiday was difficult for him. And if he was really honest with himself, then he would have to admit that the holiday did have a lot to do with it.

"You can talk to me about it . . . If you want to?"

Drew frowned. He wasn't really feeling up to it, but had become aware that he was acting very much like he had there first night. Still, did it even matter?

"I'm . . . not really up to this, May. Maybe later."

"Fine."

Drew looked at her in surprise, "Fine?"

She nodded and stood, "Yes, fine. I'm going to bed. Goodnight." And she left, doing exactly what she had told him she would do.

Drew wasn't sure what to make of what had just happened. May didn't usually stop like that. Maybe it had something to do with the way he had been feeling all day. He was sure that he wasn't really giving off any kind vibes. So what was it? One thing he could identify was annoyance. And that just annoyed _him_. What right did she have to be aggravated over this? He was the one that had to live it, all for the sake of her stupid wish!

He fell back onto the couch, frowning and pulling the covers over his body angrily.

Falling asleep was hard. He was very aware that he was running out of time. And though he felt like there might not be a reason to try, it still bothered him. And nothing had come off today. Almost all of his time was up and he hadn't accomplished anything towards the wish.

What was the point?

Why did he care?

* * *

><p>The next day Drew made sure that he avoided looking at the clock. He already knew he was almost out of time. He didn't need to see the 'three,' he knew how much time he had. But again he asked himself, why did it matter? Why should he care? If the rumor about the other residents of the hotel room was correct, life would continue as it had once the time was up. Why not just wait for it to be over?<p>

This idea still bothered him for some reason. He didn't want to keep trying, but letting time go by without effort was also killing him. It was a no win situation, that he was sure of.

He realized easily that simply enduring the next three days was not going to happen. This was stressful enough as it was. He was sure that if he didn't at least try, he was going to go completely crazy. Again her ran over what he knew.

1) Being able to talk about himself was somehow important.

2) May's wish had been that he find a reason to _love_ Christmas. He needed a reason to love it.

3) He wasn't ready to talk about himself. He needed to somehow come to terms with his past, find a way to push himself to talk about it. _Really_ talk about it. Not what he had been doing.

So where to start? He focused on the part that would probably take the longest. His past. It wasn't as if it were terrible, he told himself. Having a hard time talking about it was pathetic. It was just going to sound ridiculous if he tried to tell her. It wasn't a big deal, it really wasn't it.

Deciding that he could do it. he then considered, what would be the best way to do it? He'd already brought it up in conversations, so he just needed to start a conversation on it and get himself to continue, to go on after he was done talking about it. But what to say? It wasn't as if he could tell her everything.

Drew tried to bring it up before breakfast, but nothing came out. He was very aware that he was running out of time. But still . . . could he do it? Would this really help anything?

He ran through his memories all morning, trying to decide what to say and when to say it, but still, he couldn't get a thing to come out. Nothing felt right, and he sincerely wondered if maybe this was a bad choice. Maybe this wasn't what the voice had meant. Maybe he had misunderstood.

He was vaguely aware of the way May was watching him, careful and concerned. He tried to ignore it. His thoughts were far too held up in his own memories. He did the best that he could to sort through his thoughts logically, without emotion, and then was able to piece together his past more like a documentary then through the eyes of a young child.

Drew had spent his older childhood with his grandfather for two simple reasons: both his mother and father were gone. They were gone in different ways, but they were still gone.

He wasn't sure how it had started. He wondered if his parents had always fought, or if it had started years after they had been married and were more comfortable with on another. He liked to think that they were in love, at least at first.

His mother had always been kind to him, loved him as best she could. But she was always distracted. That was the only way that he could think to explain it. She was there, but she wasn't. Her actions showed that she cared and that she wanted to be a good mother. She would smile at him in one moment, then turn around and return to her thoughts with a frown.

He didn't think that the fights had been so bad at first. He couldn't know of course, it could have simply been behind doors. But coming home one day to his mom on the floor had seemed to snap an unspoken rule. The fights became loud, obvious. They were no longer hidden in his presence. He already knew. He had known that sometimes his father would hit her, but he had been so small that he hadn't really known what to do with this knowledge. This man was his father, and outside of the obvious, that was all he thought of him. The man drank more and more heavily as time went on, but in his sober moment, Drew's young mind still looked up to him. And sober, he really wasn't such a terrible father. He had told Drew that he loved him, there were occasions where he would take Drew to his room and play with him instead of leaving the night-time routine to his mother. But then he would drink, the moment would pass, and Drew would wonder if he really he really did love him like he said he did.

The fights were almost always worse on Christmas. He thought that there might have been one, maybe two times when he could see them trying so hard not to fight. He was sure that those efforts had been for him, for Christmas. But those efforts had all been in vain. For one Christmas it ended. Again drunk, the man that Drew had begun to separate as "father" in his mind, went a little to far in his abuse. Drew wasn't in the room, but he heard the yells, he heard the hitting, and then he heard footsteps pass outside his room. They were rough, he knew that they were his fathers. His mothers steps were light even in anger. It was only a few moments before he came out again and walked past his door. This time Drew couldn't resist peaking out into the hallway, curious despite himself. With a jolt, nine year old Drew saw the suitcase in his fathers hand. He tried to convince himself that it could be for any reason, but he still found himself stepping out into the hall despite himself, watching his father walk down the stairs. and to the front door. The man paused with the screen open, looking over his shoulder and noticing Drew, who stood motionless at the top of the stairs. His eyes widened marginally, before they narrowed once more and the door was slammed behind him. Drew stood at the top of the stairs until the crying reached his ears, then moved slowly towards the kitchen where the cries originated. He found his mother, standing beside the sink, hand on her cheek where a deep bruise was already forming, looking dazed and disbelieving despite the tears that were starting to gather in her eyes.

"Mother?" Drew had left the question open, not sure what he could say.

She looked up with a start, meeting his gaze intensely. She looked at him as if he had caught her doing something terrible. And then her eyes and welled in tears and she finally bowed her head, both hands falling to the counter as she began crying.

Drew stood at a distance, glancing towards the door when an engine started, caught in between the two. He distanced himself emotionally, as he always had, but still he couldn't leave the kitchen. And so he stood there, watching her cry, and listening to the sound of a driving engine as it faded into the distance.

Drew's mother didn't throw out the liquor in the cabinet. In fact, she didn't even open it. Drew knew that there was plenty of other room around the alcohol. But still, she left the cabinet closed, and everything that she bought with her small paycheck was overstuffed into other cabinets.

And then one day, Drew's mother opened the cabinet. It was never closed again.

It had started with a sip. Almost curiosity. Something to send the hell in her head running. And then she couldn't stop. It was an almost instant addiction. It made everything bearable, and at the same time, it made everything so much worse. Drew was such a quiet child. He hadn't said anything to her, even when the roles suddenly switched and he was the one taking care of her. She was thankful for it, it was so much more peaceful, so much easier than it could of been. But still, Drew had to be suffering. She didn't know what he was feeling though, he never talked about himself.

Then she was gone. It had been easy for her to overdose apparently. She hadn't even met half of what her husband had drunk. Drew had been there when she suddenly furrowed her brow and looked around the kitchen in confusion. Drew watched her warily as she passed out. It wasn't the first time she had passed out, but it had never been so sudden, and had never started with that look of unsettlement on her face. Drew couldn't admit to himself how afraid he felt as he watched her. He ran to the phone, calling them to tell them what had happened. They came, but she never woke up.

Drew had wondered for a long time what had gone through her mind the moment before she had passed out. He learned sometime later that a lot of people close to alcohol poisoning would become confused, but he still the look on her face had stayed with him. Her last conscious moment. Had she really just been confused. And what did that mean?

The state sent Drew to live with his grandfather who received him with a strange attitude: pleased. His house was large for one person to live in and he held an air of prideful success. At first Drew had wondered why he had never met the man if he was so happy to see him. He didn't have to wonder for very long. Drew had only been there for a few days before the man informed Drew that his mother had run away with his father. Drew was startled and intrigued by the news. They had to have been in love if they had done that. But his grandfather had other suggestions of why they had done what they had. "Rebellion," being at the top of the list. A few weeks after that, Drew was informed that he had been conceived out of wedlock. The words only pushed the idea that his mother had been forcing herself to be a good mother for him and only him further. And then one night the man had stated, that she shouldn't have been such a slut and gotten herself into the situation she had. The words were so against the way the man portrayed herself that Drew was momentarily shocked. But the words had come out so quickly that Drew got the idea that the man had already thought deeply about them, and maybe just didn't worry much about Drew hearing them in difference to other people. Drew's hands had formed fists, and for the first time in years, scathing words had come up. A short sentence to the effect that maybe if her father had _looked_ for her. . . . The look that came over the mans face was fury. He raised his hand, then seemed to remember himself and dropped it. Drew had decided that almost a year would be more than long enough to live with the man, and on his tenth birthday he was gone, starting coordinating.

As Drew ran over these memories with a calmer mind than he had ever been able to manage, he was able to notice things that he hadn't before. And he suddenly realized why. For the instinct to hit to become so natural to his grandfather, he had to have done it before. He sat aside from May with his mouth open as he absorbed the information. His grandfather had told him things that Drew could see as at his age he really shouldn't have had to hear. His grandfather was a verbally and physically abusive man. Drew had grown up watching it, and he knew the signs. His mother had most likely been abused to some extent growing up. Was it really such a stretch for her to marry into abuse? Would she even know the difference?

He couldn't believe how much of the heaviness had been lifted with that simple revelation. Taking care of her so much after she had started the same life ruining habit his father had taken up, Drew had come to love her more. He had been angry and hurt. Wondering why his mother would choose to do such a thing when he was there. Did she care how she affected him? But these questions were smothered as he had woken her and helped her to her room, or stood and made breakfast while she sat at the table and held her head in her hands, crying around a headache. He knew that she didn't want to have the habit. He still thought that he should be more angry than the understanding he felt. But somehow he felt more love for her the more that he chose to take care of her. And when he thought about it again, did he really have to take care of her? He could have left her to take care of herself. He could of, but he hadn't. And it made him love her more and more.

"D-Drew."

Drew looked up at May blankly, but stared right through her. His mother hadn't wanted her life. The abuse had messed with her, taken away her confidence that she deserved something better. And the nights that she had read stories to him in his room came back vividly. It may have been difficult for her, but she _had_ loved him. And his father. There had been moments. Drew knew that he wasn't ready to forgive him yet, but there had been times when he had tucked him in, read to him in his mothers place. All of the moments were when he was sober, as were his mom's. Was it possible that he had tried as well?

"Drew, what's wrong?"

Drew was finally able to see May before him. His eyes widened as he realized that there were tears in his eyes. He was still so overwhelmed over his revelation that he couldn't stop them, small trails started to fall. Quickly he bent over and wiped at his eyes, shocked that he could cry at all. He stopped halfway through the action, his arm over his eyes and took in a deep shuddering breath. Then he finished and looked up at her again, trying to avoid her gaze. Her eyes were wide. "I'm fine."

And he was. He felt lighter than he ever had before.

Still May stood and came around the table sitting down next to him. His face flushed, he was already emotional enough without this, and he was having a hard time controlling his reactions like he usually did. He was sure that May wanted to hug him full on, and she did. He lip trembled and he bit on it quickly to hid the reaction, despite the fact that he spent so much time making sure that he never did so in public. He tried to laugh it off, but it came out bitter. "Okay, May," he said shakily, when she was still hugging him. But she didn't let go and Drew flushed deeper, glancing around them. May seemed to sense that it was time to stop and pulled back. But instead of leaving she wrapped one arm around his and laid her head on his shoulder, eyes closed. She didn't say anything. Drew could only stare. She cared, and she didn't even know what he had been thinking. But she always cared, even when he couldn't handle her caring so deeply. She stayed, she cared.

* * *

><p>'2:00'<p>

Drew didn't know what he felt as he stared at the clock. Two days. Was that enough? What should he do with today? It had been embarrassing, crying, admitting his difficulty with his past. But he had never felt lighter, more peaceful.

What else could he do to get closer? He needed to find a reason to love Christmas, and he felt that accepting his past experiences with the date was going to help. But now . . . what to do?

He decided to go downstairs alone today. He needed to think and it was hard to do when May was watching him or trying to talk to him, not that he minded it. He sat on the opposite side of the room and for a lack of things to do, began to watch all of the people that he had watched before.

What was it about Christmas? Why did so many people love it? And by _it, _he meant the season. It was Christmas Eve, the first for the people around him, and the only ones that really looked happy were the couple holding hands, and the woman looking through photos. He smiled a bit, though the blond waitress seemed chipper, happily taking orders before bouncing on her heels and walking to the next table. Some people would look surprised with her bright smile, but then they would warm up to her and smile back. It was contagious.

The couple talked for a moment, and then the man stood and headed off somewhere. The woman watched him go with a smile and sat still as if to wait. With a strange sort of push, Drew stood up and walked to her table. She startled when he got close, looking up into his gaze. "Oh . . . hello."

He wondered what he had been thinking, and then he reminded himself that she wasn't going to remember this tomorrow anyway. "Hi. I don't mean to be rude I just- I noticed the way you were with your _boyfriend_?" He stopped to make sure he had it right and she nodded, eyebrow raised. "I just wanted to ask, what are you planning to do for him for Christmas?"

She blinked as if surprised that he would ask. Drew knew that it was a weird question but he really wasn't sure what else to ask and he hoped that this would give him insight into somebody else's view on Christmas. Then her face became a little more guarded and he reconsidered. She pulled some hair behind her ear and looked back to the table again, smiling sadly. "In all honesty? I really can't do much for him."

Drew was surprised. "Why?"

"Well," she started slowly, "I'm sort of short this year for what I wanted to give him. I don't think that we're going to be doing much of anything for each other this time."

Drew only stared. "Then, what are you doing?"

She laughed a little. "Um, I'm not sure. We're sort of just having time together." She smiled a little bit. "This morning he woke me up with breakfast." Drew blinked, then realized that neither of them had ordered anything, the were just sitting at one of the tables.

"Hmm," he stated quietly. "Is it shaping up to be a good Christmas then?"

She looked a little sad, but also definitely happy. It was an expression that Drew couldn't place, but he realized that he had seen it on May's face before too. What was it? "Well," she answered, "I probably won't be able to give him anything, but . . . it's been nice so far. We've only been together nearly a year. I think it's already the best Christmas I've ever had."

"Um . . . hi." Drew looked back up to see that the boyfriend had returned. She looked up at him and smiled. "Oh Noel, this is . . ." she stopped and looked at him. "Um . . ."

"Drew," he filled in for her. Then nodded to Noel. "It's nice to meet you. I should be going."

He blinked. "Um, yeah. Nice to meet you too." Drew turned and walked back to his seat as Noel sat down. He vaguely heard, "so, what was that about?" But he continued walking.

When he sat back down again, Drew considered her words. Was she going to have a good Christmas? It certainly seemed like it. But why was she enjoying it. It seemed to be her boyfriend's doing..

He looked to his side and his front. The two women were sitting alone. One looked happy as she went through her photos. She had a camera on her lap that he had missed before. The town was beautiful and she looked very professional. He wondered if she was there simply to photograph the town. She seemed happy with her work, and he assumed that that was fulfilling enough for her for now. He turned to the other women. She sat without a think to do, looking a little sad. Drew still felt like he needed to find something, and thought that maybe looking at two people with distinctly different attitudes about the day might help him do that.

She was sitting in the table next to him and he was relieved for that, because it would be more natural than standing and going to her as he had with the other woman. He didn't think he wanted to do that twice. He folded his hands on the table and leaned across it, asking with a small smile, "tough Christmas Eve?" He realized only after he had acted that he really hadn't had to push himself to do it. It had just sort of happened. He was surprised at the natural feel to the action.

The girl looked at him in surprise, dark green eyes widening in alarm. Then she calmed, and sighed. "Yeah," she said simply, leaning back in the bench.

"Care to share?" She looked surprised again by the question. Drew saw her look between his eyes intently. Seeming to find what she was looking for her shoulders relaxed and she shrugged.

"Just heading home for Christmas, like everyone else." She glanced at him again before continuing. "But the town's snowed in and the roads are blocked as I'm sure you already know." She sighed. "I'm stuck here." And then quieter. "I really hoped to be home this year."

Drew softened a bit. The last thing that he had ever wanted was to be home. There really wasn't a home for him. But he could appreciate her wanting to be with her family. He would rather be here with May then snowed somewhere else alone. "I'm sorry," he said as sincerely as he could muster.

She looked at him and then shrugged with a slight smile, "Stuff happens."

He nodded. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

She seemed much more relaxed now and leaned back across the table as he had. "Shoot."

"Do you thin you'll enjoy Christmas alone?"

She jolted at the question and Drew had to remind himself that she wouldn't remember it the next day. Then she muttered, "Well . . . there's not much point to Christmas when you're alone is there?"

Drew's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

Again she shrugged. "Well, Christmas is about giving isn't it? Where's the joy in it if you have no one to share it with?"

'Christmas is about giving.' Of course he had heard this before, but it had yet to register since he had started the Christmas repeats.

"I agree." Both Drew and the woman turned surprised as the girl with camera in her lap spoke up. Being only another table before. She looked a little sheepish but smiled confidently. "The more you give the more you get, right?" She ducked her head a bit. "Sorry. It's hard not to over hear."

The other woman smiled, "It's fine. Really."

Drew had the feeling that a conversation was about to start up and though he did want answers, he felt he had enough. He didn't really want to get stuck in between two women talking. "Well, I'll take my leave." He stood and looked to the woman that he had been talking to again. "Thanks for talking."

She nodded in bewilderment, then as Drew left the other woman with black hair motioned her over. She hesitated and then joined the woman at her table. No longer sitting alone.

Drew looked back across the room right before he left. Aleksi was just beginning to serve the man that sat in the seat he had again left empty this morning. It was the same as all the other times. He talked, she ignored, they were left without ways to speak

Drew sighed a bit. What was he missing?

He headed back upstairs without breakfast this time. He didn't find himself hungry, he was too anxious. May saw him enter with surprise. She had just dressed. He motioned for her to go without him, but she ignored the suggestion, stating that she would rather stay and eat with him. There was some food available in the room. And so they ate together at the small table. This time Drew had a different question for May. He felt so close. On the edge of a discovery but not sure what.

"I talked with a some people down in the lunch-room."

May looked interested and nodded for him to continue.

He recounted with May what the woman who had been sitting with her boyfriend had said. He also explained her expression, making sure not to say that he thought that he had seen May use it on him before. "What do you think makes the holiday worth it for her? I mean, she told me that she couldn't do anything for him or otherwise, but she still considers it her best Christmas. And then she looks so sad about it. Still happy, but sad." He tried to say it all conversationally but he was very aware that before the repeating days had begun he would never have started a conversation this way.

May was quiet. Drew had the impression that she was considering him more than his words. "It's love," she said quietly.

Drew stared. "Love?"

"Yes. She's probably sad because she can't get anything for him, but she's happy that she's with him. And the other girl. Of course she's sad. She loves her family and she's not going to be able to see them this Christmas." May paused and looked away. "I wish we could get her there somehow."

Drew considered this deeply. "Love," he repeated. He was shocked when he realized that he couldn't think of anything else to ask. For once he had no questions. That one word answered them all.

He was a little overwhelmed by the revelation.

May looked him in the eyes again with a smile. His thoughts still on the word, he felt his stomach flutter.

He wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN I wish that I could write more, but I need to enjoy the holiday. :D And it would probably be too long for you guys to read on Christmas Eve otherwise anyway. The last chapter will be uploaded either late tonight or sometime tomorrow. I wanted to do twelve chapters, one for each day, but it was a bit unreasonable a goal. Instead I have done my best to include all of the days and show realistically the realizations that Drew is coming to overtime. I spent a long time on this chapter. I hope you all enjoy it. I hope it's added to your Christmas experience this year. Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews.**

**Note: I'm very sorry to everyone whose OC I did not use. It is possible that I may use more in the next chapter but that may not happen. I decided that I needed to mostly focus on May and Drew and only bring in the OC's when needed. I wasn't able to add any to this chapter because, I'm already working with five. *sad* I'm so sorry! I'm planning on making an original story with lots of OC's and I will try to work as many people into that story as I can. Thank you guys for the OC's though because I really have enjoyed their additions to the story. I hope that I have done them justice in all your minds.**

**For you OC creators that missed this in the last chapter:**

**EVAN AAML submitted the OC for the man talking to Aleksi (Thank you!).**

**Jane Hawthorn submitted the OC that's sad about not making it home for Christmas (I had fun with this one. :D).**

**Monochrome13 submitted the OC of the photographer sifting through the photographs (this was a perfect addition to balance the other OC I felt).**

**Fprmr1 submitted the profiles for the couple sitting at the table.**

**Happy Christmas Eve everyone! Thanks for the reviews! I hope you enjoyed.**

**Look forward to the final installment -tomorrow! Christmas!**

**PG17  
><strong>


	8. Day 12

**To stop the confusion: this chapter takes place on the final day of the repeats.**

**I tried to go over this chapter, but I am officially done mentally. I just can't do anything else to this story. I spent all of the last couple of days finishing it up. ****I cannot tell you what this took me. It's finally here. I am so sorry that it took me so long, this was supposed to be a Christmas story. I know it may be a hollow apology, all things considered, but please believe me when I say that I had real reasons. And then when I finally came up with the end I wanted it to really matter. I wrote and rewrote and re-plotted more times than I remember. I just hope that it was worth the wait. I had so much in mind, So much that I wanted to say and add. Well, that's it. I so hope that you guys like it! The writing for this chapter didn't come easily, so I hope it's a good read. I can't tell yet.**

**Thank you.**

* * *

><p>'1:00'<p>

Drew couldn't think. This was it. The last day. He stared at the fire, then looked up at the clock again. This time he couldn't look away. The hand pointing at the number seemed almost taunting to him. Pointing out plainly that this was the last day, and . . . had he changed at all?

But had that even been the point?

He was tired of thinking. It was over. What was the point in even moving?

He was depressed, he realized. Depressed that it was over. The thought made him inexplicably angry. Why was he upset? He wanted it over, didn't he? But how long had he been forced to repeat this day? The idea that it may have been pointless was both sad and infuriating. He felt perhaps that if he moved something might happen, but it would happen too late. It was over. He was done.

May groaned suddenly. Drew looked over in her direction almost robotically, by now the very familiar picture of her in the window greeted him. Somewhere in the back of his mind something nudged him and pointed out that there was something wrong about this sight. But he was too caught up in other thoughts and the possibility didn't seem to matter.

He turned back to the fire again, the heat and red reflected in his green eyes in the dark of the room.

Wait, dark?

Drew blinked rapidly turned carefully to the window again. His eyes widened at the black of the sky behind May's silhouette. For a moment all he could do was absorb the fact that it was still black outside, the difference to every other time that he had woken so far. Why was it still dark? What was different today than any other day? Drew felt angry frustration growing as the thought occurred to him: was it because it was the last day? Because now it was normal again? Because now he could wake up earlier if his body wanted to, just because?

He stood and looked at May again, his shoulders sagging, her wish coming back to him. He nearly growled aloud when he realized it was guilt he was feeling. His fists shook at his sides as his ire grew. Why should he feel guilty? She had made the wish, not him. He hadn't gone into this situation willingly. Why was it his fault how it ended?

Why was it always his fault?

Drew's teeth ground together. His palms hurt where his nails dug into them. It wasn't _fair_. Why did it always come down to him? What had he done to deserve the weight of the world-the consequences of the actions of everyone around him? Even his parents-Drew's throat hitched-even the people that had been predestined to take care of him before his birth-even they had left him to deal with the results of all of _their _mistakes. Why did he have to take care of this too? Did everyone really think that nothing affected him? That because he didn't break down nothing broke _him_?

"Drew?"

Drew jolted violently, his wide eyes snapping up to meet hers.

Why had she woken up? She never woke up at this time. Except, now it was different wasn't it? It was over. Her wish was over. It was his fault that he hadn't done it. He was responsible for dealing with it.

He was distracted by the sound of hurried footsteps. He hadn't realized that his eyes had shut again. His head bowed as he tried to will the feelings and thoughts away. But damn it, it wasn't _working_. This wasn't a big deal. It _wasn't_. Why . . . Why . . .

And then there were soft arms around him, and the scent that was purely _May _filled him, sweet and serene. Her effect was calming, but even that didn't seem to help. He wanted to push her away except he couldn't move. And she was soft and still, and her hair tickled the bottom of his face as she slumped beneath his shoulder, still frizzy from sleep. And like always, she was there. And somehow that just seemed worse. Worse yet so much better. She was always there. When had he given her any reason to follow him? She never expected anything. She never left him with holes to fill. Would she?

May startled when he started shaking. She wondered in awe if he would actually cry. But the shaking continued and nothing came of it for several moments. She continued to hold to him, almost wishing that he would just let go. Trust her to care for him and not to judge him and to love him. But he didn't let go. He stayed firm, shaking, trying to stop, until finally he let out a deep breath and lost some of the tension in his shoulders. May wanted to sigh. He so needed to let go. It was almost scary how much he was forcing himself to hold in. All of the feelings had to go somewhere.

She really did hold in the sigh and disappointment when she felt he was ready to pull away.

Finding the tense atmosphere somewhat relieved, May looked back to him. He was staring to her side, much less tense than he had been, but still caught up in his thoughts. She dropped her hands to his and held them. Drew's eyes widened even after the moment they had shared and he raised his gaze to hers with trepidation as she asked, "So, what was it?"

Drew froze, his face reminding her of the saying, 'deer in the headlights.' He looked between her eyes and seemed to struggle for a minute, then twitched with slight annoyance he tried to smother. "I-It's hard to explain," he muttered.

May frowned. She could end it there and be satisfied, but this was about more than her this time. He had been so close to the first break down she had ever seen. She felt it would be a bad decision to leave it here. He needed to know that she cared and that she wouldn't judge him for whatever was bothering him. But more than that, he needed to speak. He needed to vent and know that in the future if he ever needed to, he could vent. He couldn't keep things inside forever. She was sure that he hadn't opened up to anybody about much of anything. It wasn't healthy, and she was worried.

"Drew, please?" He blinked, eyes squinting as he stared at the floor. "I promise, you can talk to me. I want to know." She massaged the hands under hers with more pressure and he stiffened. "Please, I want to know," she repeated.

Drew froze, gulping. 'I want to try,' he realized. But would trying matter?

Was this the real source of his pain?

He wanted to turn and face the clock again. He knew it would say '1:00,' but he wanted to see it.

But . . .

"I can't," he whispered.

The room was silent, deathly. The temperature dropped. The relief that had been there a moment before all but gone. Drew marveled at it. Wondering vaguely how two words could have so much power. But it could have been something else. May's reaction? He chanced a glance at her and saw the look. That look. The one that he had explained to her the day before. Sad and concerned. The only part missing was the happiness.

Drew stood stiffly. Without a word he walked to his bag and carried it into the bathroom to change, ignoring the fact that May was still staring at him with that same defeated expression and hadn't moved an inch from her position on the floor.

Once the door had been shut and locked, Drew found himself unable to move. The pack held limply in his hand as he stared at it blankly. He didn't know what to do, only felt the unnerving calm around him. It was numbing. And for the first time, he felt fear. He was sure that his expression was just as defeated as May's.

Drew almost insisted that they stay inside for breakfast. He would feel more comfortable that way. In the end, he found himself unwilling to muster even a sentence in his defense, and the two of them walked quietly to breakfast, though not slowly-Drew always a few steps ahead of May. When they arrived, Drew stopped at the doorway. May looked at him curiously and he moved quickly taking the same table he had on the first day, the one that would prompt Aleksi to serve them.

He was surprised when a man showed up in a waiter's outfit.

"What?" he muttered.

May blinked at him.

"Why. . . " Drew trailed off, looking intently at the man, then his eyes widened in recognition. "Ah. I remember . . . . " Drew looked down at his hands with a look of resignation. He realized while he looked at them that they were shaking and quickly formed them into fists to quell the action. "I woke up earlier."

May was already looking up at the waiter before them as Drew began to speak. Drew looked up just as a young man entered the room. The same that he had been watching the last few days. Drew watched with interest as the man looked over the room, took a step into it, then paused. He glanced around the room again and looked over at the clock on the wall. With one more, almost wistful, glance around the room, he backed away and left, intent clear in his step. Drew watched him go with a sort of longing he didn't expect. An empty feeling filled him as the man left. He tried mentally to calm himself, to will the thoughts away. It wasn't as if all of the responsibility landed on him. What did he care if they met? Why did it even matter? But with an internal groan, he still glanced over his shoulder. Moments later he watched Aleksi leave the kitchen, tying the frills of her apron behind her.

"Drew, what's wrong?"

Drew watched Aleksi a moment more, feeling like he needed to move but somehow feeling too numb to do so. After a moment of carefully squashing the urges, he stated, "I'm fine."

May didn't look convinced, he found when he turned around. If anything, she looked downright angry. He was surprised to see the look on her face. Always happy May, angry. Sure it wasn't full blown frustration, but Drew knew the signs. And any anger at all was a lot for May. She pursed her lips and looked down at her menu, expression gone, despite the fact that she had already ordered. As he looked at her again it occurred to him that perhaps he had misread her expression. It wasn't completely anger, more frustrated loss. There was no other way for him to say it. A controlled form of the defeat that he had seen on her face earlier that morning.

"What will you have?"

Drew looked up at the waiter as he asked and then down at the menu. All of the pictures stood out to him, all of them probably plastic but made to show him just what he was missing. And on any regular day he would undoubtedly fall for the trap. But now . . .

Drew placed the menu down on the table. May watched him carefully.

"I'm not feeling well. I'll skip out this morning. . . . Thank you."

The repetition left him feeling numb, as if it was a repeating day but really it wasn't. He felt played. As if the spirit, or room, or whatever it had been, was hanging what he could have had in his face, making it seem like he still had a chance, when he didn't.

He suddenly felt sick.

Drew stood, nodded at May and started back up towards the hotel room.

"Drew?" May whispered. And just the way she said it, a confused whisper, it was just another thing to show him that it was over. She usually stood up in shock. Today she was quiet. Everything was different.

He didn't even stop to consider if it were him who was making things different.

His walk up the stairs was strangely quiet. He took his time. What was the point in rushing? May didn't follow him. He was sure that it was because she wanted to leave him with some time to himself to sort out what was bothering him. He didn't know that she was sitting at the table he had just evacuated, her forehead in her palm, almost waving off the waiter as she refused to eat as well.

He entered the room with light steps, glancing around slowly as if it were the first time that he had entered it, looking at the clock with nearly dead eyes. A spark of dark aggravation showed somewhere behind the mask as he looked at it. He turned slowly to the room again as a whole, hands tightening into fists as the dream from days before came back to his mind. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to leave. In his fit of failure he felt watched by the 'wish maker', laughed at and tricked. He knew now why people always left so quickly, and why they were so upset. This room didn't grant wishes, it left you unfulfilled, with the vision of what may have been had you been a little bit better.

It left you a failure.

He walked to the counter despite himself, unsure of what else to do. As he opened the cupboard and reached for a glass he stopped suddenly. The feeling that he was being watched and laughed at-stronger then ever. His hand gripped the large glass in front of him firmly then loosened suddenly in shock as he looked to the edge of the cabinet. The was a short row of bottles, blending with the dark wood on the inside of the cupboard, but the labels stood out proudly, turned in his direction, stating what they were and why they were there.

Liquor.

Drew jumped backward, frozen suddenly, body trembling. In a fit of panic he looked between the bottles and the glass beside them. The only glass in the entire cabinet. Suddenly nauseous, he spun on his heel and nearly ran to the door, only glancing behind him once he was within the frame of the door as if to see the perpetrator or the dream and memories.

Seeing nothing was worse.

Drew slammed the door behind him, it's sound filling him with a strange sense of satisfaction. But still reminded of the liquor in the cabinet, empty as his mother's had been. Large single glass taking place of the small group of glasses, just like his father had done to his cabinet.

* * *

><p>May still hadn't moved from her spot, head tilted to the side against one of her palms, as if she were sick and waiting for relief.<p>

For the first time she felt completely despondent, and she had no idea why. She felt as though she had been pushed and pushed and was now finally running out of energy.

She cared for Drew. She was concerned for him, for the way he was acting. But. . . what was this feeling? The upset telling her that she had reached her limit? That she had done enough already? She hadn't.

Had she?

Confusion tore at her, like trying to remember a dream that was closer to something that had really happened. She shook it off quickly, bothered by the feeling. What was wrong with her? What was going on with Drew? The last was her real concern.

She sighed and placed her forehead in her palms.

Only, she couldn't talk to him about it, could she? He wouldn't talk about it. He wasn't going to tell her, he wasn't going to open up to her. Frustration crawled up her throat like bile. She felt wrong, wrong for feeling so terrible when he was obviously feeling upset. She should be more concerned for him, she shouldn't consider herself . . .but, warring with these feeling was exhaustion. A feeling, a thought in the back of her mind that she was desperately trying to squash. Only six words. Words that she felt she had no right to think. _'Would he ever feel like talking?'_ Finally letting the words reach her conscious mind she extended them to what would follow. If he never changed, if he never opened up to her . . . was there a point to this?

She stopped the thought there. Of course there was a point to this. Drew wasn't alone. She and Drew were happy travelling together regardless. Drew didn't have to open up for them to be friends.

Drew . . . .

For the first time she evaluated her thinking. Drew, Drew, Drew. Why? What about . . . what about her? She winced at her own thoughts.

Was it wrong to think of herself-or was she hurting herself more by ignoring her own needs?

With another sigh she looked down at the menu. She really was hungry. And this was one thing she could do for herself without doing anything wrong. She paused as she waved at the nearest waitress. . . . She would bring Drew something to eat too, after he'd had a little bit of time to himself.

* * *

><p><em>"Hey son." <em>

_Drew paused in the entryway to the stairs, pack slung over his shoulder from school. He nodded at his grandfather with the same blank mask he always used around him, waiting for the words. The man always called him "son." Drew was unsure to why. It somehow felt like more than just a phrase the old man used as learned from the past._

_"Why don't you and I have a chat?_

_Drew felt numb at the phrase, unsure if he should be nervous or angry, in the end he dropped his pack on the chairs beside the entryway and headed over to the living area. He stared at the man for a moment until he gestured for Drew to take a seat across from him. _

_Drew sat, still staring, silent as he usually was. He had learned that silence was better around adults that held sway over him, but outside of the house his tongue loosed. Words almost seemed to build up until he snapped at people that were bothering him for no reason. _

_He was much calmer then his father had been. The last thing that he wanted was to be like the man. Instead of yelling insults, he hissed them, smart comebacks that left the people he pinned them on gaping and speechless._

_Drew noticed his grandfather's eye twitch as he stared at him, but so subtle was the motion that Drew chose to ignore it and to wait for the man to speak anyway._

_Finally the man sighed and spoke. "I need to talk to you about your schooling."_

_Drew nodded but gave no indication that he knew what the man was referring to, which of course he did._

_The man gave Drew a look at his lack of response and stated flatly, "You're failing."_

_Drew shrugged and glanced away. "What's your point?" he asked finally. The words escaped before he had time to stop them._

_His grandfather's lips pursed together tightly, his eyes portraying something that bordered on anger, kept carefully from his other features. "This is unacceptable," he stated._

_Drew stiffened in aggravation. "I don't care."_

_There was silence for a moment. Drew saw his grandfather straiten to his full height out of the corner of his eye. _

_"There are rules here, and you're to follow them. That's all there is to it. Your grades are important, and I want to you getting full marks." When Drew gave no indication of hearing him within the second he left, he continued on. "Your parents having no guidelines for you means next to nothing here. I do require things." With still no reply, he asked, "Have we reached an understanding?"_

_Drew's hands were fisted, and had been since the beginning of his final statement, still he looked away and said nothing. Finally he muttered, "sure."_

_His grandfather nodded, knowing that was the best that was coming. "You may go."_

_Drew stayed sitting a moment longer before looking at the man. He opened his mouth, then shut it. "I ... I wanted to talk about something too."_

_Drew missed the surprise in his grandfather's eyes before he nodded. "Alright," he said quietly._

_Drew stared at the floor, contemplating whether or not to say anything. He didn't like the man, not at all. But he had raised his mother, he had known her. And Drew . . . he missed her. He needed that right now. _

_"What was she like back then?" he blurted finally. _When she was happy, he thought._  
><em>

_The man was caught off guard. Drew saw multiple expressions war on his face. Understanding and annoyance. Drew awed at how he could show both and wondered if he shouldn't have asked._

_To his surprise, his grandfather stood up, walking towards the kitchen as if to leave. He stopped in the entry way, running his hand over his head with a sigh as he turned back to look at Drew. His mouth quirked in some negative emotion that Drew couldn't decipher. "Depends on when you're asking."_

* * *

><p>Drew had wondered at the words and said nothing more, blocked by the obstruction in his throat. He <em>had<em> understood. His mother had changed, so much and so often that his grandfather didn't know how to answer. Drew compared the nights of her tucking him into bed to the nights where he helped her scrabble up the stairs and felt sick.

What about his father? Had he changed, or had he always been the same?

Drew thought of the night when his father had turned to him. The first and last time. Angry at Drew's presence as he watched them argue-or, more correctly, watched his father yell at his mother.

He knew that his mother wasn't always quiet(she yelled too), but that night, with him watching, she had been silent-right up until the moment his father had turned to him. The entire atmosphere had changed. His mother's eyes widened in panic and she stood from the chair across the room, ran to his fathers side and spun to face him, all so quickly that both Drew and his father had frozen in surprise. The moment she faced him her hands were on his coat, not saying a word but simply staring at him in earnest. Her hands grasping to the front of his coat (but not to him), tightly, in a thinly veiled plea.

Drew had never forgotten that moment. At that time he had felt loved and protected and wanted, and it was such a wonderful feeling that he had not been able to displace it. He vaguely recalled the fact that she hadn't spoken, hadn't said a word, and yet his father's face had softened, sliding quickly to some masked form of anger as he brushed past them both. His mother had looked after his father, glanced at Drew, and started up the stairs past him.

Drew never knew what to think of his mother's actions. Sometimes she loved him and sometimes she didn't, and sometimes she showed both at once. Protecting him and then leaving him to sit alone on the steps of the stairs-at eight years old.

But regardless of the good, every memory seemed to end with the slamming of a door. From his parents, to his recent exit of the hotel room, to May locking herself in the bathroom.

And he had tried to talk to them all, his mother, his father (briefly), his grandfather. But that was just how it went. They left and he was still there, dealing with everything they decided not to.

And he was sick of it. It was too much.

May felt the top of the staircase creak under her foot and watched as Drew's eyes strayed from the wall to her, not a change in his position. He sat with his back against the door of their hotel room, legs crossed, forehead in his palms. A second more of staring at her and he raised his head, dropping his hands to lay calmly in his lap. It was a strange moment, one that words just didn't seem to fit. An understanding, and yet complete lack thereof. Drew was aware suddenly of just how tired May looked.

May seemed to have had enough of staring and started forward. Drew stood as she reached her and went to open the door first but paused, wincing. With a breath of courage and a mental berating, he opened the door and stepped in.

May went strait for her pack by the bed, not a word said, while Drew watched. After recent memories, the sight of silent May picking up a pack, him still standing in the door. didn't bring the best of feelings. May paused, still not looking at him, her hand running absently over the soft material of the PJ's she had set out. "I think . . . we need to talk," she finally whispered. The words weren't cruel, weren't angry, only spoken as a statement of fact, as something that needed to be done.

Despite himself, Drew found his body taking over before his mind had a chance to process it. He let out an annoyed huff of air and sat down on the couch, almost wincing when the act was completed. It had become second nature to him, he didn't talk about himself.

May was still staring at her pack, but now it was obvious that her mind was on other things. Her expression tightened slightly, eyes narrowing in emotion Drew couldn't place and was trying to ignore.

It was silent, May tried again to gather herself and keep the tears, no matter how few at they were at the moment, from coming to the surface so that she could talk calmly. The last thing they needed was hysterics. May closed her eyes, and when she opened them again she felt she was ready to speak. "I . . ." Taking another breath, she tried again, only to stop when Drew interrupted.

"You what . . .want me to talk?" The pause wasn't nervousness so much as aggravation, an emotion May couldn't understand being placed in the sentence.

May's head rose, now staring at the wall across from her, her expression seemed to look beyond what it had before, past the wall to something wistful. She opened her mouth minutely, closed it, and started again in a whisper. _"Yes_."

There was a pause.

"No."

There was a sort of determination in his voice, something she couldn't place but she didn't like. As if he were drawing a twisted form of strength from something unseen.

Again, deathly silence. Drew almost wanted to take it back. And then a chilled, "No?" swept the room.

May's hands shook on her clothing, and she pulled them back carefully, clenching her hands to fists still on the bed. Finally she turned to look at him, tears in her eyes, though tears of frustration or loss or hurt she couldn't tell herself. "No?" she repeated. Clenching her teeth, she pulled her hands closer to her on the bed as if to support her sudden lack of self, head dropping as she shook and tried to control all of the emotions suddenly running rampage inside of herself. "Wh…" the words died in her throat, and though she tried, this time she really couldn't find it in herself to go on.

Drew's expression warred with what he thought he should be feeling. He didn't know what to feel about May's reaction, but he did know that the stupid room didn't have to make him try and fail again. It wasn't a wish granter, it was (as the others leaving had understood) a curse. And he wouldn't be made the joke again.

But May was trembling now and a sudden sort of longing he had never felt before came over him. He wasn't sure what it meant, he only knew that this turn of events he hated for a reason he couldn't name.

Gradually May's shaking subsided, not a word spoken between them. A hand rose to rub gently over her forehead, as if calmly a headache. She turned to look at him again, and, he guessed seeing no change, she reached almost robotically for the pajamas and went to change, not another glance but ahead of her.

Drew couldn't help the automatic wince that came with the shutting of the door, though the rest of his features remained impassive. Without realizing it, he continued to sit, not thinking of changing into his pajamas, completely caught up in the actions that had just occurred.

Again, that feeling of complete wrongness filled the room, as if he had made a mistake, and though it hadn't been the best of experiences, he couldn't see what the mistake had been. The room was cursed to ruin his efforts, at least-this was what he had come to feel.

He stood slowly, as if robotic himself and walked past the living area. His eyes glanced into the kitchen as he passed, noting absently that the cabinet was still open and refusing to acknowledge it. He hadn't realized where his feet were leading him till he stood outside the bathroom, nearly a foot away. He felt suddenly numb but didn't move to knock. Couldn't. And suddenly the very muffled sound of choked sobs reached his ears. He stayed unmoving, his eyes betraying his plan to not be affected, until running water reached his ears. He had to wonder if it was really needed or if she was using it to muffle her crying all the more. Still he couldn't move.

Annoyance came quickly, He couldn't shake the feeling that he was wrong. Not that what he was doing was wrong, but that _he_ was. Whether or not he wanted it, he had changed. The realization came suddenly and with mixed emotions. He was acting the way he was because he was upset and didn't want to be tricked again, but it wasn't him really. How had he changed exactly? He wasn't sure how to word it, but he knew that he hated this, enough to do something. He reached forward and with a jolt stopped, turning vaguely to glance back into the kitchen. Hesitating only momentarily he pulled his hand back and headed to the couch, throwing himself onto it unceremoniously and pulling the covers up without preamble.

Not again.

* * *

><p><em>The dream was undoubtedly that-a dream. Even as he witnessed it a part of his mind told him that it wasn't happening, but still he couldn't shake it.<em>

_The dream started in the bedroom, his father reading to him the pick of the night, a story of knight, he thought. Then the sound of the front door came and his father placed the story book down, a strange look on his face as he told Drew that they were done for the night and ushered him to sleep as he left the room. _

_The scene changed, it was Christmas, the first Drew could remember. He sat and looked up at the tree that was strangely empty but still seemed rather large to Drew's little frame. His mother smiled beside him, reaching to place a candy can where Drew's small hands wouldn't be able to pull it down. He pulled on her shirt silently and with a sigh she reached into the box beside her and handed him a full candy cane._

_The front door slamming shocked them both. Drew and his mother jumped, Drew biting the tip of the candy cane off on accident, still holding it to his mouth. The room was silent when Drew turned around. His father was still, looking from the tree to his mother (and nearly completely ignoring Drew). After a moment the confusion on his father's face mounted. "What the hell is this?"_

_Drew jumped again. The motion seemed to finally bring his father's attention to him and he strode across the room quickly. Drew cowered back a bit before his father pulled the cane from his fist and turned to face his wife, holding it aloft as if to make a point._

_Drew's mother swallowed and finally spoke. "It's been five years already."_

_The man only stared back, then looked at the tree as if he couldn't decide whether it was a good thing or a something he should loath. _

_Drew watched them both and stepped back as quietly as he could, heading for the window sill in the corner of the room._

"_No," his father stated finally,_

_Her eyes widened in a sort of pleading sadness. "No? But D-"_

"_I said no. What more do you need? Take it down!" He turned. Stating more calmly, "take it down."_

_Drew watched his mother's eyes soften but stay laced with sadness. "I'm sorry," she whispered. _

_Drew's father stiffened and started up the stairs._

_Drew knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, what was coming next, but he didn't want to see it. It didn't seem to matter much whether he wanted to see it or not, when it came he witnessed it,_

_His father, downing alcohol, cabinet open. One large glass replaced where perhaps a line of small glasses should be kept, It would have been a joke to have anything else. Those glasses would have never been enough._

_And then the scene changed again, and Drew watched his father leave, slamming the door behind him. Christmas morning. Drew had almost wanted to believe that something would be waiting for him that day. For the first time. _

_He watched his mother drink herself to death and die, all the while him supporting her, cooking and tucking her into bed whereas weeks ago she had been the mother._

_And then the entire feel of the dream changed. It had all been memories up until this point. But now he felt as if he were choking, surrounded by darkness so black he could taste it on his tongue. He wanted to die. Even death had to be better then this stifling, constricting blackness. Or perhaps this was death. Was this what happened after you died? He could no longer separate himself from the dream. This was too deep, too real._

_He felt nothing. It was as if he had become a part of the darkness, He wasn't sure how long it continued, only that it felt like days. It was like a giving a nearly drowned man a life raft when he finally saw the dart of light ahead of him. A little pinprick in the endless night. Suddenly even more breathless he struggled towards it, not sure how he was getting closer with the inability to feel his own limbs. But he was. And slowly but surely he reached the light, even more torturous then the emptiness was the long trek towards what he could _see_ but could not feel._

_And then he was there. Suddenly. As if he had been placed before it though he knew he had struggled to get himself there. In his dream mindset he recognized the familiarity of the cupboard but did not know from where he had seen it. Without realizing it his hands reached for the cupboard, both hands opening either side. _

_It was with a mixture of fear and relief he saw the hidden contents._

_A row of bottles. One glass._

_The real Drew felt anxiety. But Real Drew was stifled under Dream Drew who felt nothing but a nearly sobbing relief at the sight of the gleaming bottles laid out before him. Reaching for one without his consent, he pulled the bottle from where it laid and set it on the counter before himself. _

_Real Drew protested in anger then stiffened mentally in fear, (as if the bottles had minds of their own) waiting for the result of the action that came with _actually_ pulling the bottles from the cabinet. His real mind shut down in fear as he slipped deeper into the dream persona. Wanting the bottle. Relieved to see it. Grabbing it with a firm grip he lifted it to his lips. Drew looked forward past the bottle and saw that the back of the cabinet had firmed to glass, reflecting the image back to him._

_The image of his father._

_Drew, the vision of his father, finished tipping the bottle to his mouth, liquid touching his tongue-_

-and promptly woke.

Before he realized what he was doing he had thrown up in his mouth, gagging in his still laying down position. With what strength he could manage he turned over and just barely stopped himself from emptying the contents of his stomach all over the floor. He swore he could still taste the liquid, acidic and pungent. His stomach rolled and he had to clench his throat and raise a hand to stop himself from continuing with the action he had stopped.

It was some minutes before he could move freely without the fear of vomiting. His eyes watered and he shut them tightly, clenching his teeth. When his stomach finally settled, he removed his hand and sat up fully, leaning his head into his palms. His face was cold, and wet, and yet he couldn't care less about it. He was shaking. The vision of him as his father was too much, the simple idea of him coming anywhere near what had ruined both his parents lives was horrific. Calming himself enough to straiten he looked at his hands, inches from his face. They were still shaking. In the aftermath of the dream he heard the word "withdrawal" echo in his mind and tried to stifle the shaking by clenching both hands together tightly.

Drew wasn't sure how long he sat there, unable to move, to think, overcome with the fear and denial the dream had thrown him into. He wasn't like his father. He wasn't. His obsessive aversion to alcohol had to prove that,

It was probably hours before the sun rose, bringing May to waking point with it. Drew still didn't look at her. He couldn't. It was a quite literal thing.

He heard the rustling of sheets as May rose and yawned, pushing the blankets aside as she stood aside the bed.

There were a few moments of silence. He could feel May's gaze on him, the calculation he was sure that she was gracing him with. Then she said, "Are you alright?."

Drew snapped.

* * *

><p><strong>AN I know that Drew's reaction to imagining the taste and effects of the alcohol could seem a bit magnified. I think that it makes sense for his character. He feels that it has ruined both his families lives and so he has stayed as far away from it as possible. With his feelings about it, I can see Drew imagining it as nothing but a negative taste and being disgusted and horrified. **

**This is not the end. I found with writing this chapter that one wouldn't be enough for his development, and so I split it into two. It will be updated as quickly as possible. I want to give all of the old viewers a chance to realize that it has been updated before I post the next chapter. Hopefully it won't be more than a day, but I understand how schedules go. I promise to be ready to update when needed. This time it will happen. Thank you to the reviewers that waited and to Fprmr1 for the message! :D I really do appreciate all of the support so much.**

**P.S. As a last note, I did try to go over this chapter for grammar, but I honestly just do not have the patience for it. I can't do it. Ugh. I've spent so much time on it already, my mind just leaves the room when I try to go over it again. Doesn't help that my spell-check changes things that are easy and makes me look stupid. Anyway, I've decided to get a Beta. Just for grammar and such. If anybody reading does Beta-ing and is willing, let me know. I'm going to ask a couple of people. :)**


	9. Christmas Day

A/N*sob* It's all over. Yes this really is the end folks. I know, it's super long. It's pretty much two chapters in one because of the added epilogue type thing at the end.

I want to take a moment to sincerely thank every one of you. The reviewers, those who alerted and favorited, and those who gave me OC's to use. This story was one I always wished to write well and the support I got was more than I ever have before. I know you guys see a lot of stuff like this from different authors but I really appreciate it. It really does mean a lot to me. I love you all! :D I hope the end rises to expectations. Let me know, yeah? I'm pretty nervous. I shall now be replying to reviews as I have the time to do it. Unless you ask me not to for some reason.

I rose the rating for a repeating curse word in this chapter. To those of you who avoid cursing, I'm sorry. It's in a moment of emotion, and anything else didn't seem to fit.

In case any of you are confused, it is now Christmas Day in this chapter, and May will remember the previous chapter because the repeating days are over. That was the final day on the clock's countdown. I'm sure it's not what any of you were expecting. :) Hopefully this chapter can make up for it.

I was listening to The Walk by Imogen Heap. Interesting how the lyrics sort of fit Drew in these two final chapters:

"I feel a weakness coming on.  
>It's not meant to be like this.<br>Not what I planned at all.  
>I don't want to feel like this.<br>So that makes it a_ll your fault._  
>Inside out<br>Upside down,  
>Twisting beside myself<br>Stop that now.  
><em>You're as close as it gets without touching me."<em>

* * *

><p>Later he would remember that this was the moment that he ruined everything for himself. That the words he spoke separated the one road he was on into two. Two choices, and one of them he simply couldn't see in the state he had put himself in.<p>

His inability to see it was his downfall.

May's mouth opened in shock. She stared without a word as Drew suddenly unloaded everything onto her. All of his frustrations and annoyances with her and the current hotel room. Everything.

Everything but himself.

May didn't know what to say. What to think. Shock slowly gave way to concern, to an understanding that he must have really needed to unload all of the pain in his heart.

Only he wasn't unloading pain. He wasn't venting, not really. He was lashing, And it quickly became apparent. The understanding in her eyes dulled, but she continued to watch in sorrow. She knew . . . now.

Nothing was ever going to change.

Drew was hurt. Drew was sad. Drew, Drew, Drew. And she cared. She really did. All of her thoughts had been reduced to one word: Drew. But it couldn't be that way anymore. Drew was so bitter, and who knew for how long. With all of his pent up feelings and with his inability to vent them, he might never be balanced. He might never have the ability to look outside of himself long enough for it to truly matter. He might never be able to really love.

It took Drew a moment to register when May sat back down on the bed again, not a word said in her defense to the cruel words he spoke to her.

Drew quieted suddenly, curious despite himself, calmer now that he had let off some frustration. The sharp frustration was still there, but it was more bearable now. Bearable enough for him to focus on May.

May. Who now sat still, both in body and spirit, looking distantly towards the floor as if considering something, calmly. But the calm resonated a distant loss.

It was the quiet that did it. The lack of tears, the missing returning yells as she defended herself. He couldn't understand it and he didn't know what she was thinking. He was aware that his words were not merely jest as they had been in the past, and were more harsh than anything he had said before. He hadn't meant to spill it all, or to say it so viciously. It had just come out. It was as if she was . . . a convenient way to vent.

He wanted to hit himself with the realization. He had to have hurt her, deeply.

Only she didn't look hurt. And what was she thinking? He got tired of waiting. The tension was palpable, but it was all from him. There was nothing from May. It was as if she didn't even care. Like her mind had frozen. It was driving him crazy.

"I'm finished," she said quietly.

It was in that moment that Drew realized what he had done.

For one awful moment time felt frozen, still as the mindset May seemed to be in. It was the calculating moment. The time in which he tried to understand if she was really saying what it sounded like she was. To be fair, he knew what she meant, he just didn't want to believe it.

When she looked at him it was with a lack of tears that furthered into a lack of sadness that Drew found strangely disturbing. Shouldn't he find it comforting she wasn't upset? But he didn't. It was wrong. A person who cared would be upset, and she wasn't.

He watched her jaw firm as if finally holding something back, and then she stood, pulled her pack off the floor, and grabbed her pokeballs off the bedside cabinet. She took it to the bathroom before Drew could say anything, and pulled her stuff off of the counter next, stuffing them quickly in the pack. Drew watched, suddenly the one frozen. She stared back for a moment-her look flat and knowing-then shut the door in his face.

Drew didn't move until she had come back out, changed into her regular traveling clothing instead of pajamas. She tied her pack around her waist and started to the door.

Drew stared at the bathroom door (he hadn't moved since she had left, the knowledge had started to set in at that point).

When May reached the door to the hallway she sighed, her hand tight on the doorknob. She turned to look back at him. "You know…" she started in a shaky voice. Drew turned his gaze to her, carefully. All at once she changed. Her gaze softened, some emotion that Drew loved to see finally showing through. But he would have traded the coldness for the look of loss and pity. She pursed her lips, looking more into him then at him. And her eyes were so filled with sadness _for_ him that he couldn't stand it.

"You've always been so good at that."

The door was shut.

She left him with a compliment to his cruelty. The fact that it was a true compliment to his talent with words only made it all the worse. It spoke volumes of what could have been, the same way the room had showed him what he could never have. Her words said plainly, 'you could be better' or 'with your talents, you could be better,' or even, 'you're wasting yourself away loosing your good qualities on something pitiful.'

But no matter how he looked at it, no matter what he said, she was gone.

Drew wasn't sure how much time passed in the next few hours. May had checked herself into a new hotel room and both of them were left with nothing else to do but think.

May realized that it was Christmas. The realization led her to the first tears she had shed since the fight earlier the last day had started. It was Christmas, and Drew had locked himself away even deeper. The knowledge that maybe this was because it was Christmas didn't make it any better.

Drew sat against the wall where May had left. He felt numb all over. It was terrible.

Drew looked around finally, and his gaze soared over the kitchen, coming back to rest on it. From his position he could see the edge of the open cabinet, but not the contents he had uncovered the previous day. He felt some emotion coming back to his empty heart, emotions he couldn't name but didn't like. It was almost robotic the way he stood, heading towards the kitchen to finally stand before the open cabinet, eyes on the liquor he had run from. Again, the lifting of his arm was automatic as he reached for the alcohol. His hand was on the neck of the bottle before the dream flashed brilliantly in the back of his mind. He remembered his father in his reflection and his gaze went to the back of the cabinet as if to see a mirror that definitely wouldn't be there.

The realization of what he was doing sounded alarm bells in his head, and for the first time in days, he truly acted. His hand wrapped tightly around the bottle and he pulled it from the shelf. He thought of the hell the room had put him through. He thought of his father, of his mothers sadness and his grandfathers abuse. And again, he thought of his dream. He remembered his reflection matching his fathers, the way his voice sounded so much the same as the man's when he had said "no" to his mother. The aversion to having a Christmas tree, so much like Drew's aversion to celebrating Christmas at all.

The sound of the bottle exploding against the wall was the most satisfying he had ever heard, but it wasn't enough. Full of anger, Drew pulled the next bottle from the shelf. He held it up to the light, watched the way that it reflected and the liquid sloshed. With a grimace he turned and threw that one against the wall as well. The sharp sound made his ears ring but filled him with glea. His hands shook as the emotion came back. Looking at the room as a whole now he opened his mouth to address it. "You want to see me become my _father_?" His eyes flashed as he looked, as if expecting a reply. The stubbornness that was simply him rose to the surface. He reached back into the cupboard, bringing out yet another bottle. He held it up to the room and yelled, "Is this what you want? You want me to drink this?" He threw that one as well and grabbed the next. The explosion of shards rained against his turned back with the force of his throw. "No," he whispered, and threw it. The next one hit the floor, much closer to his body but he couldn't care less. "No!" There were four left. It wasn't enough. They had to be gone. All of them had to be gone. This time he grabbed two. "You want me to be like _him_? That stupid-" he threw the first one "-_abandoning-_" the second "-bastard!" With the next one he turned to the room again and rose it above his head. "I'll _never_ be him!" It was with the emphasis on 'never' that he threw the next bottle. It wasn't enough. It wasn't enough.

Drew was unaware of the tears that had started as he turned and grabbed the final bottle. It was his father's fault. It was all his fault. The stupid failure of a man had left him. Left _them_. Left him to take care of his own mother. A mother who loved the man so much that she couldn't live without him. Loved him so much that she _died_ missing him, missing Drew's life along with it. A sweet, good woman that would never talk to Drew again. He would never tell her his dreams. She would never see any of his accomplishments. She wouldn't see him get married. She wouldn't be there when he fell in love. She wasn't there when he won a contest. And all because of that bastard of a man he was forced to call 'father.'

"I hate you," he whispered, his entire body shaking with the anguish. The angry tears gathered to the point that he couldn't will them away. "You bastard. I _hate_ you." He quickly wiped the tears on his arm and dropped them to his side again, bottle held loosely.

He wasn't stupid. He knew it wasn't his fault. He knew his father had chosen to leave and it had nothing to do with him. He _knew_ it. But that was as far as it went. Past knowledge there was something deeper, a feeling of guilt that ate at him. Really, at the heart of it . . . it was his fault. Not his father's. _His_.

And again, he knew, based on facts and knowledge, that it wasn't true. He knew that if were to tell someone that they would tell him not to blame himself. That it wasn't fair or right to blame himself for what his father had done. Not being fair didn't fix anything. It didn't change the fact that _he_ was the mistake that had ruined both of his parents lives. The child conceived on accident, then used as the reasoning to run away. He had only been wanted in their lives because they could use him to escape from their own parents. A baby was a good excuse.

His grandfather had been right.

The feeling he had had growing up, the suspicion that his mother pushed herself to do things for Drew when she didn't want to. The knowledge that his father wanted less to do with him then he did with his liquor cabinet. It was all true. He had always been the ball and chain to everyone around him.

Everyone until May.

She was like a float. The strongest of strong to pull the metal ball from the bottom of the lake and hold it like a gift in her arms. Like something beautiful and good... A real float couldn't possibly hope to keep a iron ball and chain from the bottom of the ocean. And any regular person couldn't hope to stay positive, to keep him from ruining their lives, to make out as if he was a blessing rather than a curse. But May could. _May_ could.

And he had just possibly lost that forever.

But if he was just going to bring her down, what was the point? Was it really right to make her stay?

Did she want to stay?

Drew's thoughts ended on this one question. He couldn't get past it. Did she want to stay or did she want to be happy? Did she want him? Had anyone ever? And would that be enough?

Drew dropped the still filled bottle to the ground (the metallic clatter ignored) and raised his hands to eyes,. He pressed his palms firmly to his eyes. He didn't need to cry. He would _not_ cry. There was no reason to cry. It didn't matter. What right did he have to cry? His life was fine. He was fine.

The excuses didn't work this time

He finally dropped to the floor beside the bottle, his foot hitting the shards from the last broken bottle. He crossed his arms on his knees, embarrassed and hiding from what he was about to do. He didn't want to, but he couldn't stop. For the first time since his childhood, he broke down and cried angrily into his arms. Frustrated that he had to cry, sitting on the floor of the hotel room with his head bowed over his arms, sobbing for all of the love that he would never have and all of the love he _could_ have had. Feeling agony for the person he could have been, the person he had always envisioned himself to be as a child. Better, stronger than this. Angry at his father for the hell he had left him with. Wondering if the man who left had ever regretted it, and if he ever would. Afraid to become the man he hated. Loss for the woman who would never really see her son when she hadn't seen past her abusive husband. All leading to now- with the resounding thought that left him here - a question that pulled more sobs from his throat. Would his life ever go anywhere, or would he always be mourning? Afraid to admit it to even himself - not moving forwards because he couldn't let go of his past. The past that was ever presently molding his future.

He felt as if he were on a train without brakes. Rushing down a one way track and unable to stop or look out the windows for the speed of his downfall. Unable to choose whether he wanted to change or stop because there were no other tracks to choose. Only this one. No brakes. No steering. Lost to himself. It was his fault, and he could do nothing.

"I hate you!" The exclamation muffled in his arms.

Dropping his arms he let the sobs continue to choke him. A gasp of pure pain and anger escaped. "Bastard."

Finally the sobs stopped but the self-deprivation did not. He realized the last bottle was still laying at his side. The realization brought him back to the state of the kitchen. He looked around and winced. There was glass everywhere, The floor was soaked with alcohol. If he were to light a match he would bring the place down in flames. Nobody would be able to stop it. This thought had him forcefully keeping himself from doing something he was sure he would end up regretting.

Suddenly very tired, he rose and headed to the bed. He flopped down in it without preamble, uncaring to the fact that May had been using it a while before. His head hit the pillow in exhaustion. He realized sleepily that the pillow smelled like her and let out a pained smile, finally giving into sleep.

* * *

><p>May didn't know what to think-what to do. On one hand, she felt for Drew. On the other, she had come to see that nothing was changing. She couldn't help him and it was hurting her. Staying on the same road she had been on was self-destructive. It hurt too much. As much as she loved Drew, what was she supposed to do for him at this point? It was unhealthy. The thought brought more tears to her eyes. She had to move on. She had to . . . let go of Drew. She didn't know if she could, she just knew that if she didn't she wouldn't move on with anything. She would always be by his side, watching as he didn't change, hurting as he continued to block her out. Never knowing him, never being loved back, but unmoving. She wouldn't be able to leave him if she stayed any longer, and it wouldn't help either one of them. They would live the rest of their lives the same: sad, alone, but always together.<p>

She had to let go of him while she still could. She had to try.

Filled with a strange sort of determination she stood, grabbed her pack off the bed beside her and started down the stairs.

* * *

><p>"You idiot."<p>

It was here again. The room, the wish granter. Whatever the hell it was. It felt so much like being in the blackness in his dream. Surrounded, a loss of sense to his limbs. As if it were only his mind and the room. But this time it was all white. Still just one color. Somehow it changed everything. It felt wide and expanding instead of small and suffocating. It should have been comforting but instead he felt naked, as if everything was laid bare before the one who had set the dream.

The voice came again, still so young. It didn't make sense when he thought about it. Why so young? Why so happy? Or it had been, that is. Now the tone had an undercurrent of danger. Drew would have shook if had a way to.

"You fool," the voice said this time.

Drew winced, somehow still able to. The anger came quickly. "It's you," he hissed.

"Yes, it's _me,_" the voice replied as if mocking his wording. "Evil manipulater that I am. That's what you think, isn't it?"

Drew's teeth ground together in suppressed fury. This was so unfair. Ruining everything and then acting innocent. Drew suddenly felt his limbs again, so quickly he wasn't sure what to think. Was this another thing that the room could control? Now that he could see and feel again the endless white felt more like a room then a mindset. He felt even more helpless, even more bared. He felt surrounded yet alone. The room seemed to be the whiteness. He had no way to hide and he _hated_ it.

"You seem a little uptight. Want to talk about it?" The tone was almost mocking, covered in a sugar sweetness that could be nothing but fake.

Drew wanted to scream. Kill it. Leave. Run. Tell it to take it back and keep it's gifts to itself. He could do none of it. "You . . ." He was at a loss. Then the voice came again, still a young girl but with an undertone that bordered on more male than female.

"Yes?"

But he still couldn't speak and leaving the opening for him seemed less helpful then insulting.

"Let me help you out, since you've so conveiniently lost the smart tongue May just got done complimenting."

Well, _that_ took care of loss of words. "And you would know about that." The words were pushed between clenched teeth, lowly.

"Yes I would. After all, I'm the evil ghost that wants to make you drunk and lonely. But that's not what we're talking about here are we? No, we're talking about _you_. The fool who just ruined all of the work I put into this wish. The idiot who actually thinks that the entire world comes down to what he feels. You think May's life has been a bowl of cherries? You think everyone around you is living a life of leisure while you suffer silently? Ignored? You ingnorant, incorragible _fool_."

Drew had frozen. That was unfair. It wasn't like that. It wasn't. He didn't think himself above others, and he didn't act it either. And it wasn't as if he was looking for pity. But come on, to be fair, May's life had to be going quite a bit better than his.

"Or was."

Drew startled. "What?"

"_Was_. You took care of that."

Again Drew didn't know what to think. He felt that he should be upset but he didn't even understand what the room was implying.

A sigh. "I don't know everything. I don't watch people outside of this hotel. I don't go in her head and I wouldn't want to. But I do watch. It's easy to do. May's showed that she has a happy upbringing so I'll give you that. But she's also starting to break down being around you. Her life isn't so happy right now."

Drew felt his mouth twitch into something of a sneer despite himself. "She's always happy."

This time the voice was exhasperated. "And that means she doesn't go through anything? I've been watching people for a _long_ _time_. It's all that I have to do. I find in incredibly annoying how many of you think that your happiness depends on what happens to you. Half of the people who come here want me to grant wishes that will lead them to what they think is happiness. But none of it will take them there.

"I grant them the opportunity. They think they know what they want, but they fail to realize that the opportunities are always there. When they find themselves with the opportunity before them on a silver platter they turn in anger because they have to _work_ for it. As if even I could just give them what they want out of thin air. They want things, but the aren't willing to work for it. Which shows what they really want, a life full of leisure.

"And then they end up like you. Angry and bitter. Wanting to spite me, because they weren't willing to do the work. Too stupid to see the opportunities right in front of them. They leave,_ sad_ because nothing happened to them, when they could have been happy because they were _making_ things happen.

"Happiness is all about you. Noone else has a thing to do with it."

Drew tried to wrap his head around it. His anger had abated a bit for reasons he couldn't place. "When was the last time you did this before me?"

"About a decade, I expect. . . . I had wanted to make a difference this time."

Drew realized that his hands were shaking and clenched them tightly at his sides. Anger and guilt and frustration warred. He was so tired. Asleep and still unable to rest. How could he continue like this? The days were over, why was the room still talking to him? His eyes dulled. In an exausted tone he whispered, "When is this done?" There was silence for a moment and then the voice answered back, tone just as subdued.

"Right now if you like."

Drew twitched. "You said you wouldn't end it till I talked."

"I'm tired."

The phrase spoke so much of what Drew himself was feeling that he didn't know what to do next. "I'd like that." It would be so good to be done.

" . . . I can't turn back time. I won't."

It was strange that he didn't feel angry about it. Somehow he could feel it, maybe because he was sharing mindspace with the room. It was past 'won't.' Something closer to a 'can't.' For a moment the voice felt real. The spirit of a person who could only do so much. He wouldn't answer. He couldn't vocally accept it but he felt he understood. But he couldn't leave it there. He was talking to a _room_ after all. "Why did you do this to me?"

"Why? Fine." The voice was harsh and then lowered. "I thought perhaps I had someone who would change with their wish. I thought the desire being for someone else . . . would make it matter."

For someone else. That someone being May of course. He didn't know why he was so calm. He had to wonder if the crying had something to do with it. He just couldn't be so upset. With this mindset he was able to think a bit more clearly. It had been for May, hadn't it? It was her wish.

"Time to go. Good luck, Drew."

He looked up in surprise at the sudden cutt-off. "Why now?"

The voice chuckled. "Going to miss me?"

Drew sneered a bit. "Not likely."

"Then we understand each other." Drew felt himself fading. It was the only word for it. The world going dark as if from behind closed eyes. "I want you to think about it. What you're giving up. You need to face it. You're going to loose her. Not just her but everyone. And one day you will be alone, just like May said. . . . It won't be worth hiding away."

That was the last he heard.

He felt as if he should be saying sorry.

* * *

><p>Drew woke with a feeling of deja-vu. For a moment he wondered why he had fallen asleep, then realizing he was in the bed he was suddenly very conscious. It was Christmas. The days had ended.<p>

May had left.

A feeling, the old stubbornness used to separate himself from the pain of reality, brought thoughts to the surface. He tried to ignore the way his sleeves were still damp and thought about the argument. May was gone, and it his fault. Then the other voice, the one in the back of his mind that always told him not to make a big deal out of things, spoke up again. She was in the next room, the voice said. Only the next room. She wasn't gone. He shouldn't . . . But he was shaking.

Was this his fault? Or. . . he couldn't let go. Couldn't forget what it felt like to be abandoned. So many times. What had he done that made it impossible for people to be around him? What had he ever done? The thought brought a bit of the anger back.

And then the other voice, the more balanced one, the part of his mind that still wanted to be normal spoke up. It _was_ his fault, it said. He had to let go. He had to stop blocking out the world. How could he expect to stay a part of it, stay with the people around him, if he couldn't talk to them, if he couldn't handle anything? He thought of the dream, a bit vague but still there. The voice was right. This feeling, this hopelessness. It wasn't worth it. This wasn't worth May.

He had to face the fear.

It took several moments for him to settle on this realization. To give himself the courage to take it to action.

He felt a little numb. All of the tears had left him feeling strangely clean. As if he had actually cried out the frustration. He wondered if this is what it always felt like when you cried. Then he wanted to hit himself for thinking about it.

He was almost on autopilot. It was time to move, he told himself. He had reached a crossroad, one that he could actually see, and it was time to let go of the past. He could do it, he could try. If he didn't, he would never get past it. He couldn't do that anymore.

He knew the first step. He wondered if the phone wires had come back up since the day before.

Drew stood and changed quickly, then grabbed his wallet and started down the stairs. When he reached the front rooms he headed strait for the video-phones. He realized quickly that he would rather use a regular phone so he wouldn't have to see the face of the man and see his reactions. It would be so much easier. Then he battled through it. He could face this. He was almost to the phones when another thought made him stop. Could his grandfather do it? And he knew it. If he didn't have to look Drew in the eye, he would find it easier to speak. Drew would learn more. He turned and headed in the opposite direction, bringing him closer to the front desk. And stopped at the three phones standing beside one another, not one with a video connection.

Taking a deep breath he picked up the phone before he could second guess himself and held it to his ear. The receiver was cold and he used the feeling to focus on instead of the way his hands were shaking or the way the child in his mind was screaming at him to put the phone down and hate the man forever.

Numbly he punched in the unfamiliar numbers he had never once used but always remembered and waited. The first ring startled him. Reminding him that soon it would cut off and he would have to face what he was doing. That a voice would be the next thing he heard after each ring.

It was to fast and too slow and finally a voice came over the receiver. A smooth, cocky voice. "Hello?"

The word was so common, so normal, that he couldn't speak. He didn't know how to start-how to go from "hello" to "why?" Lips trembling, he opened them and forced himself to speak before it could become unbearably awkward.

"It's Drew."

There was silence.

And then finally, "Drew. . . what can I do for you?"

Drew let out a breath of anxiety. "I had something to ask you."

"What is it?"

Drew found himself inexplectively hurt by the curt response, though he wasn't saying much himself. "I want . . . I want you to tell me about my father-about them-_together_."

This time the silence lasted much longer, and then a sigh. "And why on earth should we talk about that?"

Drew's hand gripped the phone painfully. He had to know. "It's Christmas," he finally choked out. "This . . . This is what _I_ want." It was what he wanted. May wanted him to love Christmas, and he wanted to know about them. What he was reaching for he didn't know, but he had the feeling, the stirring hope, that something within their past would help him to let go. "There must be something," he said after another few moments of silence.

There was an almost amused or bitter chuckle on the other end (he couldn't decide which). "Yeah, there is," his grandfather said. And then he stated boldly, "Your father was a bastard."

He was slightly surprised by the stark curse word, but he remembered himself using the same word for the man and nodded without realizing it. It was true after all. He knew he should be angry, he was, but he felt curious despite himself. "Why?"

It was almost audible, the surprise that he could feel from his grandfather even through a phone. "Why?" he stated in a tone of disbelief.

"_Yes_," Drew hissed. "Tell me why. Why was he a bastard? What was his life like? What did he do?"

"Well, he hit your mother for one." The words were so aggressive that Drew was surprised beyond them. He had already known that but his grandfather seemed so angry about it that Drew was confused. He had come to the conclusion that his grandfather had abused his mother as well. Had he? Had it all been verbal? Or could he be justifying his own actions in his head and hating Drew's father for his?

"I know."

He heard his grandfather choke as if he had been about to say something. "You know?" he stated quietly, almost as if annoyed, but still hushed enough to be believing.

Drew almost rolled his eyes. "It was hard to miss."

There was another silence that bothered Drew. He didn't know what it meant. If his grandfather was feeling sorry for him, had somehow not expected Drew to see the fights, or was simply cursing his father in his head. It occurred to Drew suddenly that they had something in common, and he wondered if the man was coming to the same conclusion: They both couldn't stand his father.

"What else?" Drew braved on. The words were spoken with an release of air, as if pushed out from his very core. "Tell me."

The voice was hesitant but became stronger with each word. "He was a difficult child." Drew realized that his grandfather and father had known each other for a long time, it was a strange revelation. "He never talked to anyone. He was bull-headed. He did what he wanted when he wanted, regardless of what his mother said. It didn't matter what people said to convince him, when he decided-that was that. Your mother hated it."

"His-His mother?" Drew repeated breathlessly.

His grandfather answered grudgingly, as if realizing that he had said something he shouldn't have. The words seemed to come from between clenched teeth. "His father left when he was young. His mother had a few suitors, one ex-husband after the man, but nothing that stood for long."

Drew was so shocked he couldn't comment. His father had left too? His father had left him? What could push him to leave when he knew how badly it hurt? Or was that . . . what made it easier somehow?

"P-Please. . .don't stop," he whispered robotically, not realizing that he had spoken for a moment.

There was a change in the feel of their conversation. A change in the way his grandfather spoke. "The men his mother brought in the house all seemed to be the latest slime passing through. She went from man to man as if it were nothing. Always someone new. Your father separated himself from her as he got older, started hiding out at school, avoiding adults, getting tight lipped and onry. Bad things happened around him. Of course, no one could ever prove that he had done the things that came up, but it was always around him. At some point he decided he fancied your mother and started coming by the house. . . .For a while she listened to me, avoided the man. And then one day she came home with him in tow and told me that she was in love and they were going to be together forever." Drew figured his grandfather must have been quoting her completely to state it the way he had. Drew felt a pang and wrongness of the words even as he felt elation. She had loved him. They _had_ been in love.

"And?"

"And that was it. She wouldn't listen to sense after that. She said she didn't care and no matter what I said she acted as if it didn't affect him. She didn't care that his mother was a slut, she said it was his mother and he hated it. She didn't care that he hung out with the wrong crowd. She didn't care that he ignored everyone around him and couldn't listen to orders. She didn't care that he was blamed for most of the terrible things that came to that school. She just didn't care. She loved him and that was all she saw."

"She loved him," Drew repeated in a near whisper to himself. He had no idea why the words meant_ so much _to him. They just did. He had to know. "Did he love her?"

"I honestly don't see how a man that hits his woman could truly love her."

Drew was snapped from the dreamlike state he had been in as if by the slam of a hammer. His heart fluttered painfully fast to the point that he was shaking. He didn't love her. It was true, of course it was true. And then he registered the phrasing of the sentence. _"...his woman..."_ There was something not quite right about that sentence. The words had flowed from the mouth so well that Drew had almost missed it. He had heard the phrase before, usually in playful jest, but there was something about the way he had said it. A tone that had Drew wondering, remembering that he decided that his grandfather was abusive. That he had abused his mother. He couldn't think. The one time that he had cursed his grandfather came back, the near hit. "You're wrong."

"Wha-"

"You're wrong. He did love her. I saw it." He had. He knew that now. With the older mindset, he remembered rare moments, none quite so romantic but patience and cuddling in sober moments. " . . . He just didn't love her enough," he whispered. _This_ was the truth. This was why it hadn't worked. He had loved his mother, but he had loved the escape from reality more. The liquor.

Escape from reality. Drew stiffened. The words shook him. Hadn't he just decided that was his problem? That he couldn't face reality and so he was blocking himself off from the world? From May?

He shook. His mouth came open in a gasp of realization. His grandfather had said that his son in law was bullheaded, tight lipped, stubborn. . . . Was he . . .

"Was he like me?" Drew asked before he could stop himself. And then he winced as he realized the phrase had been spoken aloud and held his breath for the answer. He had to wait longer than he thought was right, longer than any of the other answers had been forthcoming.

"Down to your hair."

His shoulders slumped with an overwhelming revelation. He remembered the liquor in the cabinets, the dream that he had been sure had come from the room. Maybe it _hadn't_ been trying to make him like his father. . . maybe it had been warning him? Telling him that he was already becoming like the man? It sure was starting to seem that way.

He was trembling, just a bit. He steadied himself even as he thought of the memory, the one he had dreamed of. His father coming home and telling his mother to get rid of the Christmas tree, the pain in his eyes. His mothers words. "Did. . . Did he have something he didn't like . . . What was . . ." But he wasn't sure how to say it. Finally he settled on. "Did he like Christmas?"

"I can't see a person not liking it (Drew was reminded how little his grandfather knew him). It's not as if he and I were ever present at the same holiday. . . ." He stopped as if to consider and continued thoughtfully. "Now that I think of it, I can only imagine that his Christmases weren't the best, what with the constant random men in the house. No way to have a family Christmas without a family."

Drew felt his eyes sting. The realization was too much. It was true. The man had had a terrible life. Drew couldn't hate him now, not as much. Not with the knowledge of his past and the understanding of their similitude. He still couldn't condone the fact that he had left them. He still couldn't say that it was right. But did he really have to? Couldn't he decide to let go without accepting his actions? Could he forgive him, without saying that it was alright for him to leave?

That made sense. That was good. He could forgive him. At least a bit. This is how he would let go. For himself. Forgiveness was for him, he realized. He needed it. His father wasn't here to hate anymore, and it was only hurting him. It had to be the knowledge of his father's life that had allowed him to let go enough to realize that he could do this.

But it was the realization that he was so much like his father that really hurt. He was going the same way, doing the same things, letting May go. Maybe he wasn't the one leaving, but he didn't have to be, did he? If he blocked out the world mentally and pushed her away, wasn't that the same thing? She would be crazy to stay. Like his mother, hurting herself, letting herself get worse and worse to the point that she couldn't focus on anyone else because she was so obsessed with him. The thought was more about his mother then it was about May, but he found himself angry. Not at her, at himself. To expect her to stay through hurting her was wrong. He remembered the yelling he had done that morning. Not venting, just yelling. That thought alone was the most painful. He had yelled at her, yelled like his father had always done. Hurting his mother because he was angry or frustrated. The only thing missing was the physical pain, the hitting. Despite himself, he felt relief and thankfulness for the strength that hid beneath the sweetness of May. Respect that she would keep herself from being abused. So much like his mother but not. She knew when to put distance between them. Would it be right to call her back?

The thought scared him. He had to stop. He couldn't yell at her like that again. He couldn't blame her for things. He had to stop so that he didn't grow into abuse. He had to face the possibility. It was all he had ever known from anyone, he was used to it. But he couldn't be anymore. He couldn't insult her, not like that. Not if he wanted to her.

And he had never wanted anything more in his life.

"May," he whispered. His thoughts had wandered and he realized that he was still on the phone.

There was a sigh on the other end, more good humor then anything. "I take it I'm about to be disconnected for a woman?"

Drew smiled despite himself. "Yeah."

". . . Call more often."

Drew stiffened. The only adult that had ever wanted his attention. Why he didn't know. _". . .started . . . avoiding adults. . ."_

"Sure."

"Good luck."

"Th-Thanks." He swallowed the strangeness of thanking his grandfather.

"You're welcome. Stay safe.

"I-I will." Drew was still reeling from the phrase when the man spoke again.

"And Drew?"

Hearing his name from the man was strange considering all the nicknames. It added a level of reality. He reminded himself that he was facing reality now and forced himself to respond. "Yes?"

". . . Merry Christmas."

Drew froze, remembering what day it was, faced with the words, the reality of what they meant. Of what it would mean for him to respond. He smiled softly. It would mean only good things.

"Merry Christmas," Drew said.

Drew could almost hear the man nod. "Goodbye."

"Bye," Drew answered.

Drew felt strange. Light. As if his past had been wiped away. It still hurt, but it wasn't the same. It was sadness for them instead of him now.

He hung up and turned to the stairs, intending to start back up and then realizing that in all the stress of the previous day he hadn't paid for their rooms. He had confused himself with the couple of times that he had paid in the repeating days. He started for the front desk instead.

"Hey," he stated as he reached it.

The receptionist he remembered from the repeating days looked up with a raised eyebrow at his confident tone. "Hey," She replied back. "Checking in?"

"Yeah actually. Aleksi let me and my friend in two days ago, around midnight. She said that you were the only hotel in the area and she couldn't leave us to freeze."

The woman blinked in surprise. "Oh." Then she pulled a note towards herself and looked at it. "Drew?" He nodded and she sighed. "Alright then." She pulled up the room on the computer screen and then paused and looked at him and back to the note in confusion.

Drew was curious. She hadn't responded this way either of the times he had paid in the repeating days. "Is there a problem?"

She shook her head, then seemed overcome by curiousity and asked. "This was a room for two, was it not?" Drew nodded, then realized where it was going.

"She checked into her own room this morning."

"I thought so." The woman seemed to have abated her curiosity. "May, was it?"

Drew nodded again. She went back to the screen. "So, are you two checking out together then?"

"Together? I'm sorry, what?"

She looked strait at him. "You're staying longer, or are you checking out together?"

He blinked. "Um, both."

Now she really leveled him with a confused stare. "She's already left."

Drew felt the room freeze around him. The air was thicker, his throat knotted. "What?" he asked quietly.

The woman rose an eyebrow. "She left. She just checked out. Almost right before you came here."

Drew thought of the phones, barely fifty feet away. May had to have seen him when she had left. But she had still left. She hadn't said a word.

The numbness returned. That was that, the first voice stated. It was over. They wouldn't travel together anymore. They would go there separate ways, going on with their lives in different directions. He would keep coordinating and living, and May would coordinate and go on to get married and leave the life of coordinating for a while.

His thoughts came to an abrupt halt. It was this realization-the thought of May taking a break from her dream, sitting at home with a child or living with another man. Eating with him, talking with him, sleeping with him. All basic expectations.

Expectations he couldn't let happen.

The second voice took over. His voice. The first he chased away. It was time to go to May. To show her that she meant something to him. So much to him. It would be hard. He would have to do it this time, let go, show her that he was going to try. And more than try. Do. Trying wouldn't be enough anymore. He had to do it.

He turned to instead of running back upstairs run strait out the door into the cold, agonizing snow. Strait for what he wanted and feared. Because now he wanted May more than he feared his past. He wanted May to stay with him. May, with her bright smile and constant optimism. May, with her fiery temper and strong backbone. Her dedication and desperation. Her passion, her potential. Her patience. Her love . . . . Her. Just her. All of her.

He realized quickly that he didn't know where she was headed. She had just left, maybe he could catch her. It was a small town, maybe he could find her. See her before she actually left. It was Christmas, and May, with her love for the day, wouldn't want to spend it alone. She would probably head home. Maybe she would take a cab and then a plane so that she could see her family just for the evening of the holiday. So where would she go? Would she have called a cab there? How could he catch her if that was the case?

The slamming was a cause for plenty of staring. The receptionist jumped as both of Drew's hands came down firmly on the desk, bringing her attention back up to him. "Did she use a phone?" His gaze was so intense that she blanched a bit and didn't answer. "_Did she use a phone?"_ He repeated, putting emphasis on every word. She found her voice and stated faintly, "No." He was relieved at the response. "Where's the nearest bus station-or train or whatever transportation you get."

"There's a train station. It's on the south side, just outside town perimeters . . . " she trailed off as Drew turned and ran, almost before she had started the final words.

Drew knew the town better now, thanks to the repeating days. The south side wasn't far of a stretch. The town was very small and he could run there in ten minutes he was sure from where they were.

Drew made it in five.

He came to a stop in front of the waiting station and bent over gasping, hands on his knees to support himself. His stomach, lungs and legs hurt. But that didn't matter, did it?

He straitened and looked at the station. It was small. Merely a raised concrete area with a cover to keep out the rain and two benches. It was cute. It was romantic.

There was no May.

Drew's heart clenched in his chest, his mouth dry. May wasn't there. May wasn't _there_. What now? Where else could he look? A feeling of loss gripped him so suddenly and so deeply that he had to lean over again. The reality that it could all really be over before it had even begun hit him hard. May wasn't there.

After a moment he took a breath and stood up strait, determined. He wanted it. Wanted her so badly he couldn't breath. And he was not giving her up without fighting. He knew how to dedicate himself. He could do this. Where else would she be? He thought about it for a long moment. She hadn't travelled (he hoped). Then it hit him. It was Christmas. What had May wanted to do every day with him? _'Could we look at Christmas lights?'_ And she didn't remember doing it with him. But since she didn't remember, where would she be? Regardless of the size of the town, it could still take a long while to search. And what if he left and she came and left in that time? Was it worth leaving? But what if she did decide to get a cab? He clenched his teeth in frustration and gave into the wheezing, leaning over again and letting himself finish catching his breath.

Would he miss her no matter what he did? No. He couldn't miss her. He was ready. Not now.

_Not_ _now_!

"Drew?"

Drew's mouth opened in shock. He straitened, turning his head over his shoulder, May stood there, bag on her hip, bandana off centered. Just May. So ordinary she was perfect.

May stared at Drew as he turned to her. He was breathing hard, his hair out of his face and windblown, his cheeks red from running through the cold. Eyes wide and grateful. His eyes showed such emotion. So not like the mask he had up that morning. So open.

There was a pause as they stood across from eachother, Drew still breathing hard and May simply taking it in. "What are you doing?" She asked.

"Me?" Drew asked as if insulted. "Me? What are you doing? Why didn't you say something before you left?"

May flushed a bit, glared and then turned down to the snow. Her mouth opened and then shut. "I couldn't," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

Drew was reminded why he was there. She looked confused, frustrated, and lost, and Drew knew that now was the time. "May." She looked up and Drew faltered a moment, old habits warring with him. _Courage_. Then finally he held out his hand to her, his back to the station. "Sit with me?"

May blinked at him, expression going slightly warry. She glanced behind him then back to his face, looked at his eyes and sighed. "Okay."

Drew's mouth twitched only a bit in a smile. When it became obvious that she was heading strait for the benches, Drew dropped his hand and watched her pass, following behind her. There was a certain stiffness to her movements as she reached the bench and softly sat. Drew sat down beside her without hesitation, still poised. He let the moment go, let her get comfortable, then said, "I needed to talk to you."

Instead of looking happy, May winced a little, eyes flitting across the train track and away from him. She waited for his next move. "I wanted to tell you about my father."

May blinked as she absorbed the phrase, then turned her gaze nervously to his, shock in every other feature. She didn't speak, as if saying something would make it unreal.

"He's a jerk," Drew said plainly. Then his eyes softened with pain and regret. He looked strait back at her as he went on. "And I'm just like him."

May's brow went up to match her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Drew swallowed, willed himself to keep moving. "This morning. I yelled at you." He glanced away, "I can't really explain why, but it was wrong. I realized . . . after you left. I remembered-I remembered how he used to treat her. My mother, I mean. And I . . ." He took a shaky breath and spoke the next sentence in the breath he let out. "It scared me."

May was still, waiting with bated breath. It gave him the courage to go on, reminded him that he had to. She needed to know.

"He used to hit her. All the time. Then he would yell, act like it was her fault. Tell her what he was going through and why he couldn't stand it as if it actually had something to do with her. And she just took it." His eyes came back to her, but he kept his face turned to the track before them. "When you left, you reminded me. That . . . I'm not him. That I don't want to be. You didn't put up with it, you left." He smiled, though it was pained. "It hurt, and then I thought about it more, and I realized that you had done the right thing, and I hadn't. That I was . . . that I was turning into him. And I hated it." His gaze went quickly back to the tracks. He laughed a sort of half, bitter laugh. "He even hated Christmas. I forgot about that till this morning."

May's gaze had softened considerably. If he had been able to turn again, he would of see the tears.

"About Christmas. I-I really can't-couldn't stand it. I know it's wrong, but every memory I have associated with it is painful. The first time I saw him hurt her it was in the Christmas season. Not the day, but it was about Christmas, I know it. She didn't even decorate after that, and she had already brought everything out. He practically banned it. And then-when he left," he choked and cursed himself and rushed, "he-he left that day. Left us. It was Christmas. He was always worse that day. They always fought. I had to take care of her after that. Because I didn't want her to . . . " To what? He wasn't sure. It had come on autopilot at that point. "I loved her," he whispered, gaze blurring and going distant as he faded into the memories of cleaning and helping her to bed. "He used to drink. She couldn't handle- She. . . " He wasn't sure that he could tell this. It was still fresh. It wasn't something you forgave, because it wasn't something you could blame. It was simply something to mourn. And he was still mourning. But now he had started, and somehow leaving that sentence hanging made him feel like he was ruining the efforts he had already put into action. "She died," he choked out. "Dr . . . Drank herself to death. She didn't know that she was taking too much. He always took so much more. . . . That's what I think. I'm sorry. I wish I had loved it, I really do, but I just-I couldn't."

He took a breath and let it out slowly, then allowed himself to turn to her. There were tears in her eyes. He was startled, suddenly afraid he had scared her off. Would she be worried about him being like his father? But her face changed, tilted slightly to the side, changing to a fondness he hadn't imagined would come, almost exasperated though she was. She shook her head lightly as if looking through him. _"Worried about nothing,"_ he could practically hear. And then she had moved forward, and her arms were wrapped around his neck, holding him tight, unwilling to let go. "I know."

He didn't understand it, couldn't explain or answer. Somehow the phrase answered his feelings instead of his words. _"I know and I don't care_," it said._ I'm here. I feel for you. Nothing's changed. It's hard. It's painful. I know. I know._

He held her back. This meant so much more. She was in his arms, breathing in his scent, buried in his chest. Accepting, forgiving, not the least bit worried about his confession.

He wondered about how she could forgive him so quickly. How she could care so much. This gave him worry and he pulled back reluctantly, heart jumping despite himself when she tilted her head up at him, still snuggled close. _So beautiful, _he wanted to say, but he couldn't speak. Then he remembered why he had pulled back and he frowned a little, bringing May's expression to concern.

"You have to promise me something."

"What?" she whispered, still quiet as if to keep close the feeling.

He gulped. "Don't change."

May blinked and looked between his eyes, searching. And then she found it, looked right through him as so many times before, smiled reassuringly and muttered, "I promise to leave if it's too much." A small glimmer of sadness.

Drew's brows came together. It was what he wanted to hear, but it still hurt. He _was_ happy-glad that she had understood, that she would take care of herself, that she wouldn't let go of her respect. But . . . though he wanted her to keep that tribute as close as possible and protect herself, he didn't want her to have to. . . "I promise it'll never be too much," he whispered with all the emotion he could place behind it.

May's eyes were wide. Silence surrounded them as she looked between his determined eyes for the real truth of his words. Never too much. Could he do that? Would he? The tears gathering were beyond her control. Clenching her teeth to stop it didn't help. She let out a sob and dropped back to his chest, shaking as the tears came, thick sobs of relief.

Drew held her close and tightly to support as she cried. He felt pain as he watched, knowing that this was because of him. Somehow. But he was happy too, she wanted him, she had to want him with this strong of a reaction.

It was a few minutes later when May finally had the courage and calmness of mind to pull her head away. She had allowed herself to simply rest upon him as she finished crying and gathered herself. It was simply too warm, too safe, too close to pull away. She basked in it, in the comforting warmth and arms as she recovered. Then she sighed, wiped at her eyes, and chanced a look at him, wondering at his reaction.

He was smiling. There was no smirk. No cruel words. Only that disbelieving smile, tears in his eyes that he would never admit to having. Tears. She had to stare. So open-so naked and raw in emotion. Beautiful.

"I don't-I don't think I can . . . " she stopped, remembering his worry and started again. "I don't think I _want_ to be without you."

Drew looked so taken by surprise that she knew it had been worth it to say. It was then that she saw the true extent of his feeling. Blinking suddenly to war tears, expression so awed that she couldn't look away. He almost choked when he spoke, and stopped himself. "I know I can't live without you," he whispered, words pushed because now he knew he had to put all out there.

May was taken breathless, amazed at the depth of his emotions, wondering how she had never seen them before. How he could have possibly kept this much hidden behind the mask. It only made her want to stay longer, to see what other wonderful things he hadn't showed anyone. Anyone but her. And it would always be that way. She smiled, suddenly, choking on her still tear logged throat and laughing. "I'm going to be with you forever," she stated boldly, a tone of awe and determination.

Drew remembered his mother, coming home and telling her father that she was in love and they would be together forever. The pain hit him of the unfinished relationship. He saw May's innocence, how much alike she and his mother really were. Whereas his mother had died with the dedication, May would grow with it. This time it would be true, he promised himself. They would be together forever. He had the feeling, the wish that his mother could see them. She would smile, he was sure of it. She wouldn't realize how much May resembled her but she would see her for the beautiful, brave person she was. And she would hug them both, wish them good luck. Come to their wedding. He came up short. Yes, wedding. They were going to be together forever after all, weren't they? _"Forever, son. Love her forever."_ Drew's tears came then, building but not falling. He could almost really feel it. Her there. Her voice. Telling him how proud she was, scolding him and telling him to take care of May for them both. To show her what she should have had with his father. For them both. Now healed.

"Drew?"

Drew looked back to May. He couldn't hide the tears and he didn't want to this time. His mother. Her presence. The feeling was so real and true that he couldn't stop. He smiled and focused on her again. May. This was about May. About _them_.

Recovering, he smirked a bit. "Don't you think it's funny?" he asked with slight teasing.

May looked confused, a cute and youthful expression. "What's funny?"

He let out a short laugh and leaned down closer, looking at her intently. "Your wish." He left barely enough time to register her surprise before he leaned down the rest of the way, kissing her quickly but softly on the forehead. The one action he couldn't stop himself from taking after being so close. He pulled back and smiled, realizing the obviousness of it all should have been infuriating but he couldn't stop smiling. "It's you. The answer to your wish was you."

May's eyes widened in recognition. She blushed, but it was bellied by the smile and gratitude in her eyes.

"I'm ready to try- to change," he whispered.

May was so overwhelmed she couldn't speak. Then she smiled, back on the edge of tears, pulling herself closer and then with a deep breath putting enough space between them to move. She had to be sure. "And I'm ready to know you. _All of you."_ She reinforced forcefully. "You-" She shook her head in fondness and reached up to his face, stopping halfway and dropping her hand to his on her shoulder. "You don't have to _change_. Just _stay_. Don't close up on me." Her tone was almost desperate. She lifted his hand to his chest and laid both of their hands over the constant beating of his heart. "Keep me here."

Drew nodded, a word he would have never said the day before coming out firm and determined. For her. For him. For them. For his listening mother. His hand gripped hers tightly, holding it close to his heart. For a moment the classic Drew smirk showed up, tempered with hope. "Forever, sound good?"


	10. Christmas Gift

**A/N . . .There are over one hundred reviews on this story. *sob* I love you all so much! I only ever hoped for this. ****Thank you so much for all of your wonderful reviews. I was overwhelmed by the positivity and I can hardly say how happy I was. You guys really made my week. :D**

_**I apologize to any confusion with the previous chapter. Immediately after posting the story, I updated and added the epilogue to it. I checked and it seemed to have made the change visible to everyone immediately. Apparently not as the reviews mentioned the following chapter. I took the epilogue off and decided to upload it in the next chapter so that everyone would have a chance to see it. I don't remember what the authors notes looked like, so those are different now. But everything else is the same.**_

**And now, I hope you enjoy the OC wrap-up. These great OC's deserve their own "screen time." I hope you like it. :P I didn't go over it at all. Bad me. XP It kind of sucks, but my brain's reached an end with this story. I hope it doesn't undermine the ending. I also hope that Aleksi is understandable. She represents me and I'm emotional (I _can_ control it) so she is too. I did not give her the most time because she's my OC. I gave her the most because I thought that she needed it for her character's closure. :) Working in a kitchen and being without family or friends would make me go crazy. (Yes, I have worked in a restaurant before. Not my cup of tea. Too crazy. Too picky. Too fast. Ugh.) Hope all of everyone, and the OC user's especially, enjoy this brief scene. There is one OC not present, but this will be explained. I was going to edit this chapter more, but again, I've lost my patience. :P I hope it's alright. This is officially the final chapter. I shall be sure to reply to all reviews.**

**Thank you to the following users for their great additional OC's:**

**EVAN AAML  
><strong>**lulu halulu  
>Monochrome13<br>Jane Hawthorn  
>Fprmr1<strong>

**Thank you to everyone, everywhere for reviewing.**

**A note to Pear-Shaped: :D I cannot reply to your reviews considering you're anonymous, but I really wanted to send you a message before the story was over. Don't worry about sending urgent reviews. I enjoyed every one, and urgent just flattered me and helped me to remember that people still wanted to read it. I really appreciate you taking the time to send me every review. It means the world to me to have a story that people want to read more of and I loved getting the reviews. :) Thank you!**

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><p>Evan blinked as he stared at the note. 'Kitchen. Now,' it stated. He'd only been here a couple of days. Was the note for him? Despite himself he felt the curiosity begin to rise. He didn't know for sure, but if he just left it there he would always wonder. He glanced towards the kitchen and saw one of the waitresses leave it. She sighed to herself as if despondent and reached up to pull her blond hair out of it's bun (required for the job). The kitchen was probably empty now then. For a moment he berated himself. Silly, really. To be so curious. More than likely somebody had left it there when they were using the dining table. But still . . .<p>

Sighing with the knowledge that he wasn't going to be able to abate the wonder he started towards the kitchen. The blond waitress looked up at him as he got closer with confusion. ""Was there something you wanted? Lunch room's about to close," she stated carefully.

Again he debated. He would just check. "I know. I um . . ." he glanced down at the note, but shrugged. "I wanted to check something."

She blinked at him. "Lost something?"

Finally he sighed. He wasn't going to lie his way through this, no matter how ridiculous the explanation would look. "Actually I wanted to check the kitchen. I found this." He held out the note, wondering to her reaction.

She looked at it for several moments then looked up at him suspiciously. "Did you write this?"

Evan blinked at the calculation and frowned, pulling it back. "No, I didn't."

But she had already reached into her jacket pocket, and she held out a piece of paper for him to see. 'Kitchen. Closing.' Now it was getting strange. Evan wasn't sure what to say about the turn of events. He was slightly worried that she would continue to think that he had written the notes and think him some kind of stalker. But she sighed and put it back in her pocket. "I wasn't working today," she stated softly. "Aleksi was covering for me."

It was with a small jolt of surprise that he looked up. A feeling he couldn't explain came, though soft and small. As if it all came down to this. But he had to wonder. "So, you came to the kitchen when you got the note?" She nodded. "By yourself?" She hesitated but nodded and he frowned a bit.

A little defensive she stated, "The kitchen was full at that time. The cooks and everything were still here. It wouldn't be a problem.'

He nodded at this reasoning. "What happened?" He hoped she wouldn't be annoyed with all the questions, but would rather want to know where they had come from as he did. He was surprised to see her frown, not at him but through him, as if remembering what had happened.

She sighed and shrugged. "Nothing."

With the expression she had just had, he had to think that there had been more than nothing. So he was understandably confused. "Nothing? Did you wait a bit?"

She nodded. "Yep. From a few minutes closing to now. Only thing I saw was Aleksi cr. . . " She trailed off, as if realizing she had said something she shouldn't. "Sorry." She made to move past him.

Evan was conflicted. On one hand, a rational part of his mind was telling him to leave it. The other part found it interesting and curious. And there was something else. Something pushing him. "Wait!"

She paused and turned back with polite wonder.

"What about Aleksi?" That was it. The question that connected it all. For him anyway.

She looked at him carefully. "You know her?"

He was about to say it plainly. Tell her that he had met Aleksi the day before. He didn't really _know_ her, but he did know her. He realized though that the girl was being careful about someone who was probably a friend. Though he hesitated he had to know now. And would she answer if he gave her all of the truth. He wasn't one to brush over the truth, but he swallowed it and nodded.

She sighed. "Well . . ." A glance behind him. "She's in the kitchen. She um . . . She's been crying. She won't tell me why and she won't talk. She's not usually like that. I'm kind of worried. Could you um . . ." Getting over the slight nerves (she wasn't sure where they had come from), she looked up at him hopefully. "If you know her, do you think you could talk to her? I don't know what to do. I mean, the note said to be here and that's all that happened. I'm just-I'm lost. I don't think they could know if this was going to happen."

He realized at that moment that she was more than worried about Aleksi, she was worried about the note. With understanding he asked, "are the cleaners still going to be in the dining for a while?" A few men and women had come through the room halfway through their conversation and were now cleaning up after Christmas and the meals. The girl nodded. "Why don't you stay around here where people are while I talk to her? I'll walk you to where you need to be."

An almost unnoticeable weight lifted from her shoulders as she nodded. "That'd be nice. Thanks."

He started towards the kitchen as she sat down.

When he reached the kitchen he was surprised by the lack of sound. So silent that he wasn't sure Aleksi was actually there. It didn't help that all of the lights were out. The kitchen was clean and all of the metal reflected the small light coming from the small service window. As he allowed the swinging door to shut behind him he heard a small sound. A little gasp of surprise. Turning from the wall beside the door with aprons and pin pads he saw a small light lit by one of the sinks. Sitting across from it was Aleksi. She was still in the apron and Christmas dress that she seemed to loathe. They hadn't closed long ago, but a more likely reason was that she hadn't had time to change with the crying Sophie had stated she had been doing. She was sitting on a box, hunched over it, elbows on her knees, her fingers still curled as to show that that was where her head had been moments before. Now she was looking at him over her hands. It was still a little difficult to see, so he started over towards her. Aleksi inhaled sharply and dropped her face back into her hands, shoulders stiffening.

When he reached her Evan glanced around and grabbed a nearby crate, dragging it to the wall opposite her in the small space. He sat down carefully, aware of the small shakes running through her. For a moment he just watched her, assessing the situation and how to go about it. She was no longer crying, but Evan had no idea if that was because she was finished or if she just didn't want to in front of him. After a few moments of silence she shuffled the red flats on the floor and shook as if impatient. Evan took this as the cue to say something. "Your friend's worried about you. She asked me to see you."

Aleksi couldn't help but look at him, still no more than peering over her fingers. An incredulous look on her face. There was another moment of silence while Evan allowed her to gather her thoughts. Finally she stated, "I don't know you."

He almost chuckled but held it in, thinking that she probably wouldn't appreciate it. They both knew that. The question behind the words was closer to, 'Why would she ask you to talk to me when I don't know you?' He gathered this and shrugged a bit, a little bit of guilt showing through. "She thought we knew each other. I might not have seen to correct her . . . ."

Aleksi frowned and curled her hands together, placing them on her forehead and letting out a large breath. "Wouldn't be the first time a man lied about me," she muttered.

Evan blinked. "What do you mean?"

She jumped, realizing she had been heard and stiffened more. "Nothing. I . . .I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

It was then that Evan could hear the upset still stuck in her throat, impeding her speech. He considered how best to go about it and finally settled on, "Why don't you tell me about it?"

She scoffed, though it was more disbelief then meant to be rude. She took a calming breath. "I'm sorry, really, but like I said before, I don't really know you. It's . . . It's not something I can just tell people."

He found himself frustrated despite telling himself that he shouldn't be. He wasn't getting anywhere, and he didn't know where to go from there. "Well, how about for your friend, then? She's worried. She's asked me to help. I'm not lying."

Aleksi sighed and asked quietly. "So you're not going to leave?"

After a short silence he stated, "I will, if you ask me to."

There was a strange silence this time. She stiffened, body shaking almost imperceptibly. Again she let out a breath to calm herself then blurted, "It's Christmas."

He couldn't help the confusion. "And?"

A tremor went through her body. "And it-it's Christmas . . . . It's night already and it's not any different. I thought-" This time a small sob came. "I thought it would be different."

Evan wasn't really sure what to say to that. Obviously there was more to this than was meeting the eye, but would she want to talk about it with him? "Why?"

She seemed to curl up on herself even more but went on, speaking as if relieving stress was her only focus. "He-He said it would be different."

She winced, as if realizing how childish the statement sounded, but Evan didn't comment on it, just asked quietly, "Who's he?"

She choked again. "I hate him." A sob came. "He-He ruined everything. I . . . wanted to believe in him. I didn't ask. I didn't tell him to stop. I didn't do anything wrong. He still . . . How could I have done anything different?"

Evan rose an eyebrow, concerned despite himself. "Doesn't sound like there's much else you could of done."

She choked again, hands curling into fists on her forehead. "It's not fair."

"Things seldom are." This seemed to make her pause. He wondered if he shouldn't have said it and went on. "Things happen. Sometimes it doesn't matter what you did or could do, that's just how it has to be."

Another shake distracted him, but she nodded, wiping with one hand. "I left my family. I followed him here. I got a job. It's all I do. I didn't even want to come here and now I'm stuck. I thought he was more important." Evan realized that this must have been a boyfriend but she went on before he could comment. She wiped her sleeve beneath her nose. "I gave up everything." She paused and started wiping at her eyes, still covering her face. "I'm so stupid."

Evan looked between where her eyes should be, frowning. "Sounds like you were in love." She stopped, listening. "That's not stupid," he whispered.

This time she really did let out a full sob. The tears came before she could stop them and she stifled sounds while covering her face.

Evan wasn't completely sure what to do, but watching her sob wasn't the most comfortable thing to just sit by. After a moment of the crying continuing Evan quietly moved his crate beside the box she was using and sat beside her. It was almost comfortable. He thought about her words. She didn't have her boyfriend or her family anymore and it was Christmas. It was this realization that led him to realize that she probably was desperately in need of touching comfort. Especially if she was this torn apart still. With only a small moment of hesitation he placed his arm over her shoulder, waiting to see if she would push him away or if she did need it like he had guessed.

He knew he had guessed right when after only a few moments of stiffening, she turned into him and cried fully, still covering her face.

It was several moments before Aleksi was calm enough to pull back. She paused a moment, lowering her hands then pulled back sharply and turned away, wiping the tears away hurriedly. He placed his hand on her back calmly.

After wiping the tears away (it was obvious with all the face covering she was trying to hide them), she finally turned and calmed down, though looking at the wall opposite them instead of at him.

When she seemed calm and air became a bit hesitant, Evan began lightly picking at the material of the dress. Aleksi jumped and looked at the hand in surprise, then took on a look of annoyance as she remembered the dress. Evan let out a little breath of amusement, still hiding the laughs that wanted to come. "What?" he stated.

"I hate this dress."

He rose an eyebrow. "Why?"

She sighed, crossing her arms as she was now calm enough to collect herself. "I didn't choose it. And the girls are the only ones who have to dress up. It wouldn't be so bad if it were for fun or if they asked us what we thought. But they didn't. They just randomly decide that we have to wear dresses that make us look twelve because the men will like it." Evan blinked. Aleksi turned just a bit and saw the look on his face and continued. "It's too short," she elaborated.

This time he really couldn't hold in the small sound of amusement. Aleksi crinkled her nose in annoyance which only pulled another sound unbidden from his throat. With narrowed eyes Aleksi stood and reached behind her head for the straps to her apron. "I'm alright now. I think I'm going to go to bed." She started towards the hooks on the opposite end of the room. Leaning onto her toes to set the loop over a hook she paused. As her heels hit the floor again she turned her head over her shoulder at him, a look Evan couldn't decipher on her face. It looked confused, nervous, hopeful. Emotions that played strangely together. Evan simply watched carefully, unsure as to how he should respond.

When Evan didn't move Aleksi sighed again. She stiffened and after a moment of deliberation, took a pen out of her apron and walked to the counter. She pulled a napkin from it's holder and leaned over it for a moment, then paused.

Evan stood at her pause and made his way over to her calmly. Aleksi stiffened and quickly finished writing on it as Evan reached her. Finishing just as his feet hit the tiles beside her, she pushed the napkin towards him, arm strait. Evan took it from her and turned it over to see a set of numbers. He looked back up, slightly surprised after her revelation. Her face was tight, hiding the previous breakdown even as a blush was starting over her cheeks, pink visible even in the dark.

"Don't get it wet."

Evan realized quickly the effort and took it for the great leap that it was. He smiled and nodded, mouth turning in barely controlled success. "No problem."

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><p>Sophie (and this was the waitresses name), didn't have much else to do but watch the other people in the room. The last of the customers was finally clearing out as the cleaners reached her. Sophie watched her with detachment until the girl lifted a small piece of paper off the table, looked it over with a smile and placed it in her pocket.<p>

Sophie's mouth opened in surprise. She glanced towards the kitchen where Evan had disappeared to, but couldn't contain it. Quickly she stood and started towards the girl. As the girl pulled her bag up to start out she finally reached her. "Excuse me," she interrupted with hope.

The girl turned back and smiled, though surprise was also evident. "Yes?"

Sophie bit her bottom lip for a moment and asked. "I'm really sorry, but I couldn't help it. I noticed the paper you had. I got this note." She reached into her pocket and pulled it out, holding it out to her. The girl looked at it curiously. "I'm sorry. I just was wondering if you had received yours like I had."

The girl nodded, a peaceful look on her face and pulled the note from her pocket, staring at it for a moment. Then she looked up at Sophie with a soft smile. "I don't know where it came from." She held the note out softly as if truly caring for it.

The writing stated: 'Publish.'

Sophie blinked and looked at the girl with an eyebrow raised. "I'm a photographer," the girl explained. Slowly she nodded and the girl pulled the note away. "You know, we're not the only ones who got those. There was a girl nearby earlier who had a note at her table. It said, 'go home.' Earlier around lunch time. There was an envelope there too. Money I imagine. She was almost crying on the way out."

Sophie stood back in wonder. "Who's doing this?"

Lyra, the girl, shrugged. "I don't know. Whoever it is, it's kind of nice." When Sophie didn't reply, still thinking, she shrugged and raised one hand in a sideways salute. "Later." She smiled and stuffed the note in her pocket as she went.

Sophie watched her go with a feeling of calm. She didn't have to be worried anymore. Starting back to the kitchen she peeked around the counter to see Aleksi blushing and trying unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh. She smiled to herself and started out. Time to go home.

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><p>With an air of finality, Drew clicked the pen closed and placed it back on the front desk. He remembered the room. The frustration for the wishes of people and felt that he finally understood what it had been trying to say about them. There was only so much that could be done <em>for<em> a person without them acting themselves.

He turned and started up the stairs. It was their turn now. And if he'd helped or not . . . it was up to them.


End file.
